CSI: Murder & Music
by aspenandeleen150
Summary: Prepare for what we promise to be the ultimate CSI musical expericence! Grissom walks out of his office one day to find that everyone has spontaneiously broken into song and choreographed dance. Despite that, there is still a murder to be solved...
1. Gruesome Grissom

**A/N: This is the beginning of our CSI musical which will contain song parodies and original songs written by us. Some of the songs we plan to parody are: _I'm Gonna Live Forever_ from _Fame_, _Cell Block Tango_ from _Chicago_, _Sandy_ from _Grease_, _Hey Big Spender_ from _Fosse_, and many more of your favorite show tunes. This fic takes place after _Living Doll_. Please keep in mind that this is a parody so the characters may be a little out there but not totally. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

"I have been pitching an all-musical CSI episode for five years."

- Jorja Fox

TV Guide, February 27th, 2006

* * *

Gil Grissom was standing in his office, organizing his collection of bottled oddities that crowded his shelves, when he caught sight of the cocoon staring out at him from its glass container he accidentally knocked over a bottle sending it crashing to the floor.

He cursed as the fumes from the bottle fill the room; what was in that, anyway?

"Grissom?" Catherine came in. "Warrick just told me that he overheard Sara tell Brass what you did to her!"

Grissom just looked at her.

"What is wrong with you? Gil, we've been friend for a while now, so I feel totally comfortable informing you that you are an ass!"

"That's not necessary."

"Believe me if I thought Sara had really given you a piece of her mind I would have left her too it, but she'd never stand up to you!"

Grissom took a seat behind his desk as Catherine paced his office, thoroughly pissed.

"You spent the night with Lady Heather; I should have known something was up by the look on her face when I told her!"

"She-"

"Save it Grissom," Catherine began to back out of the office. "I should have just slapped you."

"Wait, let me…"

Grissom got up and followed her out into the hall only to be greeted by a rather unusual sight. The lab's employees were dancing. Not randomly flailing, but twirling and jumping gracefully in perfect unison in Catherine's wake.

They began to frolic around her, Lab coats swirling around.

"Umm…." Grissom stood, aghast.

Suddenly the Lab coats parted, revealing a dolled-up Catherine, who began to sing.

**Catherine:**  
Are you insane?  
Of all the things you could do  
When you stayed that night  
I should have slapped you  
Because the whole lab thinks you were kinky  
There would be nothing to gain  
And it could have been your pleasure  
When it should have been your pain!

**Lab Techs:**  
Dug his own grave;  
Gruesome Grissom!  
Glare at the guilty guy!  
Gruesome Grissom!  
The geek had a Girlfriend!  
Gruesome Grissom?  
Who would have guessed,  
Gruesome Grissom?  
But she's gone!  
Woah-Woah-Woah-Woah  
She left Gruesome Grissom…  
Da-Da-DaDa…

**Catherine:**  
God knows I've tried to get through to you  
To tell that girl how you feel  
You finally get your head out of your ass  
I'm betting that was surreal  
You screwed it up  
All for a dominatrix  
Who was going to off herself  
To feed another crazy's fix

**Lab Techs:**  
Dug his own grave;  
Gruesome Grissom!  
Glare at the guilty guy!  
Gruesome Grissom!  
The geek had a Girlfriend!  
Gruesome Grissom?  
Who would have guessed,  
Gruesome Grissom?  
But she's gone!  
Woah-Woah-Woah-Woah  
She left Gruesome Grissom…  
Da-Da-DaDa…

Grissom slowly backed away and head out of the lab, Catherine, absorbed in the music, didn't notice.

"This is not normal." He pondered allowed.

* * *

TBC (there should be about 9 more chapters: sorry 150 fans!)


	2. Living Dame

**A/N: This chapter feature A rendition of The Cell Block Tango, and an original song called Fingerprints On My Heart.**

* * *

Sara stepped out onto the lab roof and closed the door behind her. She stared across the parking lot at the Vegas skyline.

"Damn you Grissom..." she muttered.

"After we watched Godzilla, I found your love letter. And just when I had hope, you spent the night with Lady Heather."

She began to sing:

I spent the night with only the dog,  
You never thought to call.  
Then you confessed your feelings  
while entranced by a miniature and a doll  
It took me almost dying  
For you to see the light.  
Grissom, oh so guilt ridden  
I dumped your ass that night  
I almost went to Dayshift  
So I wouldn't have to see your sad eyes.  
But saying I don't miss you  
Would only add to the lies

Grissom stared up, transfixed, as one of his co-workers sung a song. About him. Again.

You left fingerprints on my heart  
And I can't wipe them away  
All the little lines and arcs  
Might be there to stay

You couldn't send that letter  
Just a damn cocoon  
What the hell does that mean?  
Was I suppose to swoon?  
An I some kind of experiment?  
Was that our relationship?  
Now your on to the next  
The girl with chains and a whip

You left fingerprints on my heart  
And I can't wipe them away  
All the little lines and arcs  
Might be there to stay

I thought things would get better  
But I guess I'm no dominatrix  
Should I have tied you up?  
Is that how you get your kicks?  
I loved you for so long  
All for a broken heart  
I guess you didn't feel the same  
But you still left your mark

You left fingerprints on my heart  
And I can't wipe them away  
All the little lines and arcs  
Might be there to stay

I dusted my soul  
What can a girl do?  
I ran the prints through AFIS  
And all I found was you

You left fingerprints on my heart  
And I can't wipe them away  
All the little lines and arcs  
Might be there to stay

Sara's voice faded out, but she continued to stare at the Vegas skyline, unaware of Grissom gawking, slack jawed, at her from below.

Grissom was broken out of his trance, when Brass came up beside him.

"Grissom, we've got the husband from the Wilson case, we're taking him in for questioning. I thought since you're the lead CSI on the case you should be there." Brass said plainly as he awaited Grissom's answer.

"Yeah Jim, I'll be along in a minute." Grissom replied as he watched Brass nod and head towards his Taurus.

_What light through yonder window breaks, it is the east, and Juliet is the sun_ Grissom thought as he followed Brass, before Sara got wise of his presence.

)-/--

Brass placed his hands on top of the table in front of Sweeny Von Trapp. There was minimal physical evidence linking Von Trapp to the murder of his wife, but Brass had a hunch on his motive and needed to squeeze a confession out of him.

"I know you did it." Brass spoke, a crescendo rising in the background.

"We know you did it." The guards sung softly.

"I know you did it."

"We know you did it."

"We know you stabbed her in the chest."

"Ba ba ba buh-da-da."

"We found the knife; you used to do it… and we know your prints will match." Brass continued, now in full-fledged singing mode.

"We know you know!"

"She was sleeping,"

"Ba-da."

"With the gardener,"

"Ba-da,"

"We found his semen on the sheets."

"Not a sailor but a semen…" Brass turned to glare at the guards for spitting out that stupid pun. They just shrugged.

"We know this must have pissed you off, so you carved her like a turkey." Brass concluded. "I know you did it."

"We know you did it."

"I know you did it."

"We know you did it."

"We know you stabbed her in the chest."

"Ba ba ba buh-da-da."

"Fine! I confess! Just stop with the singing!" Sweeny Von Trapp cried as he put his fingers in his ears.

Brass suddenly pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, reading the short text message on the screen. He snapped his phone shut and laid it down on the table.

"We found your clothes, with the blood, and I think this case is wrapped." Brass sung just to irritate the perp.

"The case is wrapped." The guards sung, as the led Sweeny away.

)-/--

"Vic's name is Tracey Jones," Sofia informed Sara and Greg as they made their way down a rickety flight of stairs. "A Ms. Edna Nelson found her dead at Mid-day before rehearsals."

A girl in her mid-thirties lay sprawled beside the hearth of an ancient fireplace. Her blonde hair was bound in a long braid. She wore a black medieval gown and silk ballet slippers.

"Hello, Juliet." Greg said, as he began to snap pictures of the body. "Another mystery for the Theatre de le Rue."

"Miss Jones was playing Juliet in the theatres upcoming productions. Where's Grissom when you need him, guy probably knows hundreds of Romeo and Juliet quotes."

"Ahem," Greg cleared his throat. "Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field."

Sofia Continued, "No one saw her after last night's rehearsals. That guy over there-" She indicated a frazzled looking young man with lank brown hair. "Is her boyfriend, Oliver Rogers, just moved in together."

"And he didn't report her missing?" Greg asked Sofia as David entered and approached the body.

"When someone doesn't come home one night," Sara sighed. "It doesn't mean they're dead."

"So Romeo here," Sofia went on, "Shows up for rehearsal to find Ms. Nelson calling 911."

"So he's playing Romeo?" Greg asked and Sofia nodded. "Isn't that romantic? Think he'll die next?"

"Greg…" Sara warned.

"Yes, that would be a bit too predictable."

"Lividity is fixed." David commented as he extracted the thermometer he had placed in Juliet's liver. "She's been dead for at least fifteen hours, give or take."

"Any idea what did her in? Poison? Dagger?" Greg asked.

"Won't know until the autopsy." David reminded him.

"You're thinking that her being Juliet played a role in her death?" Sara questioned Greg.

"Well, I mean, she _is_ in her costume in the theatre. The odds are with it."

"I've got hairs," Sara stated, showing Greg a brown hair, several inches long, clasped between her forceps.

"She is awfully dusty." Greg noted, referring to the layer of dust clinging to the dark velvet of her dress. "She hasn't been here that long for that much of a concentration to build up; and not to mention it's just in this particular area…"

"She could have brushed up against something."

"Despite its age, this place is freakishly clean."

"Where's the rest of the cast?"

"The Capulet's and Montague's are all accounted for upstairs." Sofia stated. The basement they resided in was used for costume and make-up. Above them was the theatre, and several small offices. "They've been generous enough to volunteer their prints as well as DNA samples."

"Capital idea, Barn Burner. Let's go to splitsville." Greg declared as he offered Sara and Sofia his arms.

They just stared at him.

"Barn Burner?" Sofia questioned as she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Splitsville?" Sara asked, clearly confused. "In English please…"

"Alright, alright. How's this, 'Nice one classy lady, let's go'? Is that better for you?" Greg answered, somewhat annoyed that they didn't understand him.

"Uh-huh." Sara said absent mindedly as she walked past him, Sofia on her tail.

"Fine, don't take my arms then!" Greg called after them as they walked off, but upon noticing he was supposed to be going with them, ran off in the direction of the stairs.

)-/--

"I swear Mr. Turnbland, I can do it!" Sofia and the two CSIs heard a girl protesting, "I know I wasn't ready at auditions but I can do it now!"

"Veronica, now is not the time." The man called Mr. Turnbland held up his hands.

"But we open in a week! We don't have time!"

"Ahem." Sofia coughed before the banter could continue.

Veronica and Mr. Turnbland turned around to see that they had company.

"We'll pick this up later Veronica," Mr. Turnbland whispered before he shooed her away.

"Mr. Turnbland, I presume?" Sofia said as she stepped forward.

"Um…yes. That is I."

"You're the director of this?" Sofia questioned as Greg and Sara passed her, exiting the theatre to go upstairs to the top floor, where the Montague's and Capulet's currently resided.

"Yes." Mr. Turnbland replied, keeping his answers short.

"Who was that girl you were talking to?"

"Veronica Webber, the understudy for Tracey."

"So what was she talking to you about just now? I heard her mention not being ready at auditions and being able to do something…"

"Miss…"

"Curtis. Detective Curtis."

"Detective Curtis," Mr. Turnbland continued, "Opening night is in a week and she is the understudy for Juliet. However, seeing the circumstances of why Miss. Jones won't be able to play her part, I'm considering just calling the whole thing off."

"But Veronica doesn't want you to." Sofia stated.

"Why would she? Everyone wants their turn in the limelight, and now I guess, Veronica wants hers."

"Were she and Miss. Jones on good terms?"

"That all depends…"

"On?"

"On whether you mean being good friends or just being courteous to each other when large groups of people are around."

"So they didn't get on well."

"Not in the least."

"Therefore, giving Miss. Webber motive for the murder of Miss. Jones."

"No, no! Veronica would never do something like that; even if it would give her the role. She's not a murderer Detective Curtis."

"I'll let the evidence be the judge of that."

)-/--

"And...open up." Sara said to a dark haired Capulet as she took out a swab. Grudgingly, he complied, letting her take a sample of his saliva.

"Well, that's the rest of them." Greg said as he wandered back over to Sara from the opposite side of the room, where he had been taking the Montague's DNA.

"Yep." Sara replied as she packed up her stuff. "Although I'm not so sure if it was any of them. They _did_ all give us prints and DNA without a fuss."

"I don't know Doll-face, the Montague's look like a bunch of finks to me…" Greg stated wistfully as he glanced back over his shoulder at the group of actors.

"Okay, first of all, I'll forget that you called me Doll-face, and secondly, what is a fink?"

"A fink, you know, like a rat? A sneak? A spy perhaps? And why can't I call you a pretty lady? You are one you know…"

Sara ignored the last bit as she started back down to the main floor where the stage was, Greg following close behind her.

"I still think Romeo's going next." Greg muttered as he caught up with Sara, now keeping pace with her.

"Greg, don't say that. The last thing we need is another murder."

"Hey, I'm just saying that wouldn't it make sense if he died too? You know, the whole thing where he killed himself thinking Juliet was dead but she wasn't?"

"It would make sense, but trust me; it's not going to happen." Sara continued as she pushed the door open to the stage room.

Sofia was still talking to Mr. Turnbland as Greg and Sara made their way up the stairs onto the stage but stopped halfway when a weird organ music floated through the theatre.

"Look!" A girl in a dark purple dress cried as she pointed to the rafters. "It's that Phantom!"

)-/--


	3. Follow The Evidence

**A/N: This is act three. Featured here are filks of _Follow The Yellow Brick Road_ from _The Wizard Of Oz_, _Welcome To The 60's_ from _Hairspray_, and _For Some Doll_ from _Guys And Dolls_. Chapter four shall be up soon enough.**

**Disclaimer: We do not own CSI or any of the characters.**

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me," Sara said as the cast and crew began to panic. Just what she needed today: a riot.

Greg on the other hand, couldn't be more pleased, "This is awesome! Our crime scene has a _phantom_!"

"Hey!" Sofia yelled. The figure grabbed a loose rope and swung away from them onto another rafter. "Stop!" Sofia and two officers dashed after the mystery man.

"Keep your hand at the level of your eye!" Greg yelled after them.

"Come on, let's try and head him off!" Sara led Greg into the closest wing and down the stairs. "We'll cut through the back hall."

"This is great! We actually get to chase _the_ phantom!"

Sara threw him a 'be serious' look as they turned in the corridor that ran along the side of the theatre.

"Hey, how to do know there's a back hallway?"

"I saw a play here once."

"But the audience members don't take this route, only the cast and crew."

"I went with a friend…and we were looking for someplace private." Sara stared off into space, forgetting their pursuit of the phantom to become lost in her own anguish.

"In a theatre. Kinky." _Three guesses who that was…_Greg thought to himself, becoming lost in thought about Sara's sex life and forgetting about the phantom they were currently pursuing. Not many things could distract Greg from the phantom, but the suspicion of Sara Sidle doing their boss in this very theatre, was one of them. Word around the lab was that the resident entomologist had quite unique sexual habits, most of the rumors fed by his association with the dominatrix, Lady Heather. "Spill." He ordered, she was silent and Greg's mind wandered.

He could only imagine….

_Sara and Grissom both had the night off, which was usually rare, but two love interests always managed to have a convenient coinciding night off, if not, one of them was faking sick. Sara probably wore a low cut dress of some sort that made all the male characters that saw her think naughty things, they have a reaction a la Ron at the Yule Ball when he saw Hermione, had she always been that hot? . Grissom was looking boyishly handsome in a suit, causing Sara to gawk and inner-muse about how it brings out his blue eyes. Eyes as blue as the ocean. If Vegas had a sea, it would be Gil Grissom's eyes. _

_As the night progressed, Grissom quoted lots of really deep people and when he wasn't talking ( because Sara promised herself she would absorb everything he said instead of just getting lost in his eyes, the amazingly blue ones if you remember), Sara imagined all the things she could do to them when the play was over. Greg couldn't really decide which play they were seeing, he didn't know many, but whatever it was, it had some allegorical connection to GSR. _

_Neither was paying much attention to the plot, the play's or any other for that matter. Both would sneak looks at each other when the theatre was practically boring for them, Sara took opportunities to internally monologue about how amazing Grissom was and how much he was surprising her by behaving "totally out of character" and Grissom took opportunities to stare down her shirt. _

_By intermission, the sexual tension had built up so much that they had to flee from the very public auditorium under the guise of needing a washroom. They stumbled through the darkened hallway, drunk on lust. _

_Greg could picture an alcove of some sort, maybe a closet or a supply room. Sara would lead Grissom into it, smiling seductively (if only she looked at him that way). Grissom would laugh, Greg wasn't actually sure he knew what Grissom's laughter sounded like, probably something like his Papa Olaf's… _

_They would proceed to kiss passionately, complete with colorful metaphors, and then…_

Greg shook his head, as if hoping the disturbing images of Grissom doing anything romantic would fall out of his ears.

"Well…" Sara began.

Suddenly the lights went out.

"Shit." Greg said, pulling out his maglite. Sara did the same. The two CSIs slowed their pace as they rounded a corner, the lights from their flashlights barely penetrating the long dark back hall of the theatre. " I'd wager this is the work of the phantom!"

"Where do you think he's headed?" Sara asked.

"Well, most likely he's eluded Sofia; no one knows the theatre like the Phantom."

"Fine, going on the assumption…"

"Don't let Grissom catch you assuming."

"…that this guy really is the phantom of this theatre, he could be anywhere."

"He might have just gone back to his lair, but it looks like he made at least one pit-stop."

"To cut the power?" Sara caught on.

"Exactly."

"Do you think he killed Juliet?"

There was no response.

"Greg?"

The only response was several thunks.

"Greg, this isn't funny."

The sound of a door being slammed caused Sara to jump.

"Greg…." She asked the dark on last time before taking out her phone. This could very well possibly still be a hot scene, the murderer still running around, still very dangerous.

Before she could finish dialing in Sofia's number, she felt a hand clamp down on her mouth, not that she would have screamed like a little girl, or anything. Her phone and maglite clattered uselessly to the floor as a strong arm was clamped around her chest, pressing her arms to her sides. Sara struggled, but it was no use. Her captor dragged her to the left, Sara tried to stomp on his feet, but the only result was dark chuckling in her ear.

"Behave, little girl."

Sara wanted to argue that she was not little, at 5 foot 9, and she could lay his ass out given a fair fight, but the gloved hand over her mouth prevented her from saying anything reasonably audible.

)-/-

"I think that went over rather well." Brass said as he shut the door to his Taurus and took up pace with Grissom as they walked across the parking lot, towards the lab.

"If you count yelling, thrashing about, and denying everything rather well, I couldn't agree more." Grissom noted as he recalled what had went down during the investigation of Mr. VonTrapp.

"Hey, it's better than what I thought we'd get out of him."

"Get?" Grissom quirked an eyebrow. "We didn't _get_ anything."

"Sure we did. We got that he is a very violent man that can't handle conflict reasonably. There was signs that Mrs. Wilson had been abused."

"True."

"Come on, Gil. Lighten up a little. I mean, how can you frown when you look at where we are?"

Grissom watched as Brass opened the door and stepped inside behind him. Thinking that the captain finally had gone off his rocker, Grissom stated blandly, "We're only at the lab."

"Yes, you may be right. But we're not just at any lab, we're at the Las Vegas Crime Lab!"

Music began flowing throughout the building and techs emerged from their labs.

"Not again." Grissom muttered as Brass began to sing.

**Brass:**

Hey Grissom, Hey Grissom,  
Look around  
Everybody's processing a brand new crime.  
Hey Grissom, Hey Grissom,  
Follow me  
Down to the break room, it's the place to be

**All:**  
So let's go, go, go

**Brass:**

To the crime scene

**All:**  
Say hello

**Brass:**

To a new night's shift  
Yes, I know that you're getting worn out now  
You gotta get yourself a pick-me-up

**All: **

Hey Grissom, welcome to the Crime Lab  
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh  
Hey Grissom, welcome to the Crime Lab  
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh  
Go Grissom, go, go, go!  
Welcome to the Crime Lab  
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,  
Hey Grissom,  
Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Yeah, yeah, yeah!

**Nick:**

Welcome to the Crime lab and a brand new shift

**Catherine:**

Everybody's dancing

**Nick & Catherine:**

And Ecklie's just miffed

**Warrick:**

Cover every surface in search of trace

**All:**

Dust for prints then run it

Through the database

**Wendy:**

If there's blood evidence

At the scene of your crime

Swab and send us a sample

We'll identify it in no time

**Bobby:**

Find a bunch of bullets

And a few guns

We'll match the fragments

And we'll get the job done

"That's it!" Grissom cried, causing everyone to stop dancing and the music to die away. "What's with all of the singing? This is the third time I've witnessed my co-workers spontaneously break out into song and choreographed dance! Who know how many others I haven't been around for? What is going on?"

"Nothing's going on Gil." Brass stated as he turned around and began walking down the hall.

Grissom hurried to catch up. "Then what's with the singing? Is the whole lab on drugs? Is this some ploy Ecklie or the Sheriff constructed to bring me down or something?"

"Don't be silly Gil, everyone's just happy. That's all."

"Happy my cockroaches."

)-/-

Sara Sidle had been trained how to stay clam in this type of situation, she remembered defending herself to Grissom the first year she had moved to Vegas, _I'm trained in weaponless defense_, she had bristled. He was so damn over protective sometimes, and maybe he had a point, given that this was her second kidnapping in 2 months. But now all that arm-twisting, nose-breaking, eye-gorging training went out the window as the familiar feeling of being crushed came flooding back. She was far too aware of the vice grip her assailant had her in. And suddenly she was right back under that stupid car. Her breathing constricted, ribs aching. Her metal would-be tomb pressing down upon her, sandwiched between a hunk of mangled mustang and the miles of desert that separated her from any kind of assistance.

Suddenly, just when she feared she might really lose her cool and go really sketchy she was released and thrust forward, landing on something squishy.

"Ooof."

"Greg?"

"The one and only." He grunted.

"Are you okay?"

"I can't feel my legs."

"Sorry!"

"No, it's okay, I like it." He joked as she ambled off him.

"Where are we?"

"I'm thinking closet." Greg extracted a pen from his vest and clicked on the small LCD light at the end revealing shelves of cleaning supplies. "Yep, janitor's closet." Greg tried the door and found it, of course, locked.

Sara had settled herself down in the far corner, knees pulled up to her chin.

"Help!" Greg called, pounding on the door. "Anybody out there?"

"Everyone's probably on the other side of the building." Sara said in a small voice. "Try later, once they figure out we're missing and come looking."

Greg settled down on the floor next to Sara. "What's up?"

"Nothing." The reflex, then, "…no wait, I'm in a closest."

"No, something's not right, you're in the corner, in the fetal position instead of coming up with some…Lemony Snicket plan to get us out of here."

"I'm fine."

He shone his flashlight-pen in her face, causing Sara to shut her eyes. "You're pale…you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Greg," she swatted the light out of her face, "Do you think that was the-"

"Phantom. Yeah, my money's on it." He almost looked giddy at the honor of being attached by the phantom.

"I was going to say killer."

"Could be one in the same."

"Well," Sara mused. "He doesn't seem like the friendliest guy. I hope they catch him so we can get back to process the scene in peace." All they had managed to collect besides DNA and prints from the cast were some overall pictures and a bit of trace evidence, there were still hours of work ahead.

"He won't be easy to catch…" Greg pointed out. "_Whose is that shape in the shadows? _

_Whose is that face, in the mask_?"

-/-

Brass' phone rang. "Brass…uh-huh...what? What do you mean phantom? Where are you? In a cupboard? Where? Under the stairs? This is no time to be playing Harry Potter, Sofia…"

Grissom frowned; this was definitely one of the odder days in his life.

"So no one can find the key? Sofia there's no such thing as phantoms, and I doubt it lifted the keys. What do you mean Sara and Greg are still missing?"

Brass watched the color drain from Grissom's face and Brass knew exactly what was going through his friend's mind: Sara missing _again_. Couldn't this girl stay out of trouble?

She could be dead or in seriously mortal peril. Sofia had been locked in a cupboard; something serious was going down.

"Listen, Sofia, remain calm, Grissom and I will be right there." Brass flipped his phone shut.

"What's going on?" Grissom asked, the worry evident in his voice.

"A suspect's running around the crime scene at the Theatre De La Rue. Officers are on their way…" Brass filled Grissom in one the phantom and the fact that Greg and Sara's whereabouts were still unknown as they headed back out of the lab to Brass's Taurus.

"I'm sure she's fine." Brass tried to reassure Grissom.

Grissom ignored him and spent the drive to the theatre contemplating every possible worst case scenario.

--

Sara was rifling through the shelves. They had been in the closet for only ten minutes, but it seemed like an eternity, and she was going crazy.

After throwing off the initial feelings of claustrophobia she had taken Greg up on his idea to find away out of the closet instead of just idly sitting around and waiting for rescue, while occasionally yelling for help.

Together they found themselves elbow-deep in cleaning supplies. Greg, being bored, began humming. Sara, recognizing the tune, asked "Greg, what are you humming?"

Without thinking, Greg began belting out the song:

Follow the evidence,

Follow the evidence,

Follow, follow, follow, follow,

Follow the evidence,

Sara began laughing at Greg's attempt to keep her mood good. Seeing that she was enjoying herself, Greg continued singing.

We're off to catch the phantom,

The Phantom of the La Rue.

He clearly is a terrible ghost,

If ever a ghost there was.

We're off to catch the phantom,

The Phantom of the La Ru-

"Oof!" Greg cried as he plummeted to the floor.

"What? What is it?" Sara asked, suddenly serious again.

"Jackpot!" Greg said, pulling a large flashlight out from underneath him. He placed it on a top shelf and turned it on, flooding the closet with light.

"Nice," Sara said, standing up.

"Hang on…" Something on a shelf caught Greg's attention. "Is that Blood?"

"What?" Sara turned around and joined Greg as he swabbed the smear and dropped a few drops of a phenolphthalein and hydrogen peroxide solution onto it from a bottle in his vest.

"Positive." He said as the swab turned fuchsia.

Sara pulled a glove on and reached into the shelf and extracted a bloody cloth.

"Damn…that's a lot of blood." Greg said.

ring ring

"Greg…" Sara asked in a slow voice. "Is that your phone?"

"Oh yeah! Forgot I had that..." Greg flipped his phone open. "Nick, thank God! No, listen…"

Sara ripped the cell from Greg's hands. "Nick! Now listen, we're trapped in a closet! Yes, we're fine, we just need someone to let us out!"

-/-

"I'm sorry Sara, you're breaking up! Where are you, again? Trapped in a what?" Nick snapped his phone as he entered the print lab. "How are the prints coming, my man?"

"First you tell me what that was about; cell phone reception is fine here." Warrick responded, turning away from the computer.

"Oh, Sara and Greg got themselves locked in a closet."

"And you're not going to help them because…?"

"Come on, I thought I'd cut Greg a break, he's been waiting for a chance like this for years."

"So you're hoping that if you leave them in a closet for long enough, Sara will get over Grissom and, what? Sleep with Greg ?"

"Maybe some alone time will help Sara communicate, she's been so distant lately."

--

"What do you mean you forgot?" Sara practically screamed.

"I...err…"

"Give me that…"

"Why don't you use your own?"

"I lost it."

"Just let me..."

"What are you going to do, order pizza?"

"I'm going to try Nick again." Greg began entering their friend's number.

Sara protested, "Greg!"

In the next few seconds several things happened at once.

First: Sara made a grab for the phone. Then Greg parried her attack causing him to slip.

As Greg slipped he reached for the closest thing to steady himself: Sara. Of course, Sara doesn't weight much, so she went falling too. They slammed into the opposite shelf sending the flashlight and several bottles hurtling towards the ground.

--

"Hasn't anyone figured out how to turn on the power?" Brass said irritably, he and Grissom using flashlights to slice the darkness.

"I think…" Grissom began but was cut off by a barrage of noise.

CRASH.

THUNK .

SCREAM.

CRASH .

THUMP.

Brass and Grissom's drew their guns on reflex.

Brass nodded towards a door to their left, he silently tried the door and found it locked, Grissom fumbled with the set of keys he and Brass had sought out for their search.

Grissom recognized that scream, he was sure that was Sara. This time we would personally strangle the creep who put his hands on her. Stupid keys. Why did their have to be so many? So much for being stealthy, trying keys wasn't exactly quiet business. The fifth key he tried worked, causing the flashbacks from his and Sara's encounter with Adam Trent in the mental hospital to cease.

He flung the door open for Brass and they both raised their guns. "LVPD!" Brass yelled.

--

Back at the lab…

"So you think leaving them locked in a closet somewhere is going to help." Warrick asked.

"Nah, I just want to mess with them." Nick shrugged. "If Greg wants to make a move, it's his funeral."

"It's just too bad that Greggo has to think he has a chance with Sara…Sara Sidle."

"Warrick, I think he's delusional, and it isn't just him because I am told it's a Lab-wide delusion."

music kicks in

_**Warrick:**_  
What's playing at the La Rue?  
I'll tell you what's playing at the La Rue,  
A play about a foolish young boy so in love with a dead young girl,  
Who stabs herself with a dagger and commits suicide too  
That's what's playing at the La Rue.

_**Nick:**_  
What's in the Vegas Sun?  
I'll tell you what's in the Vegas Sun:  
A story about a CSI who was kidnapped by a psycho and nearly dies  
And we almost lost our loose canon with a gun  
That's what's in the Vegas Sun...

_**Warrick:**_  
What's the word all around?  
I'll tell you what's the word all around,  
Guys want to be the rebound of the boss' ex and she's turning them all down

_**Warrick & Nick:**_  
That's what's the word all around.  
Love is the thing that has kicked 'em.  
And it looks like Greggo's just another victim.

_**Warrick:**_  
Yeah man,  
When you see Greggo flex his bicep muscles  
You can bet that he's doing it for Sara.

_**Nick:**_  
When you see a Tech acting all kinds of shy,  
Chances are he's had a run in with a certain CSI

_**Warrick:**_  
He's a guy, you see, looking to get lucky  
And doing everything on the right side of the law.

_**Warrick & Nick:**_  
Call us mad, call us funny,  
But you can bet all your money,  
That the guy's only doing for Sara.

_**Nick:**_  
When you see Greggo, do research on his break  
You can bet he be doing it for Sara

_**Warrick:**_  
When you catch Greggo spikin' his hair up tall  
It's a cinch that the boy is chasing her up and down the hall.

_**Nick:**_  
When you meet a guy trying hard to look fly,

Gotta give him points for an attempted try,

_**Warrick & Nick:**_  
Call it bold, call it stupid,  
But you can make a bet with cupid,  
That the guy's only doing it for Sara.

_**Nick:**_  
When you see Greg giddy after a decon shower  
You can bet that the shower was with Sara.

_**Warrick:**_  
When you see Greggo flip his hat on his wrist,  
Don't you know it's a trick to impress Sara and gain a small kiss?

_**Nick:**_  
When a CSI meets the girl of his dreams,  
And in that girl he can't find a single flaw,

_**Warrick & Nick:**_  
Call dumb, call it clever,  
Ah, but you can see signs forever,  
That the guy's only doing it for Sara,  
Sara, Sara, Sara,  
That the guy's only doing it for Sara!

--

"Well this is awkward." Greg would never quite know he got into his current situation. If you had asked Greg while he was eating Cheerios before shift if such a situation were plausible, he would tell you that you've been reading too much fanfiction and roll his eyes.

Somehow he had ended up in a strange closet surrounded by a disarray of cleaning supplies on top of Sara. Not just any Sara, Sara Sidle, the coworker he had been a little bit in love with for the past 6 years (give or take) who had, during that time, been in love with their boss, the boss she had just dumped hardcore. Did he mention that that Boss was currently standing over them with a mixture of shock rage…and possibly pain on his face? Well he was, and Greg was a little scared because he and his friend had guns too.

Awkward doesn't even begin to describe it.

"Are you guys okay?" Brass asked, lowering his gun. "We were worried about you two, next time you sneak off someplace tell someone where you're going. We were going to organize a search party."

Grissom and Sara shared a short and meaningful look full of accusations and anguish that caused the audience to gasp and turn to their companions to shout, " _Did you see that?_ "

"We were jumped by the phantom." Greg explained, pulling Sara to her feet. "Do you think we locked _ourselves _in a closet?"

"Not this phantom stuff again," Brass said.

"It's true, we were locked in a closet by the phantom!" Greg protested, only the phantom could be so masterful as to overpower two CSIs and lock them in a closet that was also a crime scene.

"There's no such thing as phantoms. There is however such things as suspects." Brass said, as if explaining to Greg that the earth was round. "A _suspect_ locked you in a closet. And Grissom put your gun down."

Did Greg mention that Grissom still had both his gun and mute glare fixed on him?

Grissom put his gun down, but his eyes didn't leave Greg. Sara was also silent; Greg guessed she was trying to come up with a way to explain why they were found on the floor. The truth wasn't so bad, embarrassing, but not worse then what Brass was thinking.

"We were looking for something to get the door open when we…fell." Greg explained lamely, gesturing to the messy closet.

"Well now that we know where everyone is, you to can get back to processing the crime scene and do the job you were sent here to do." Grissom said calmly, he knew exactly what Sara Sidle liked to do in theatre closets. "I've got paperwork." And he left.

* * *

**_TBC_**


	4. Springtime For Ecklie

Chapter 4

A fast pace jumpy tune filled the lab corridor. Several employees groaned.

"It's eight already?" Greg whined.

"Man, I hate when they do this…" Nick moaned.

"What? What's going on?" Grissom asked.

Nick and Warrick looked at Grissom as if he had just asked them to make a chalk outline around a D.B

"Here they come," Greg said as a Group of CSIs, Lab Techs, and other workers filed into the lab. No they didn't _walk_, like Grissom remembered, they pranced like deer on speed, with freakishly happy smiles on their faces.

_The Crime lab was having trouble  
What a sad, sad story  
Needed a assistant director to restore  
Its former glory_

Dramatic frowns replaced the robotic smiles, and the singers held their hands over their eyes as if gazing into the distance.

_Where, oh, where was he?  
Where could that guy be?  
We looked around and then we found  
The CSI for you and me  
And now it's...  
_

They parted, revealing Ecklie rolling in on a cart, waving at all the watching employees. He began to Sing:

_Springtime for Ecklie and Dayshift  
This shift is carving the way!  
_

All:

_We're solving to a faster pace  
Look out; Dayshift will solve the case!  
Springtime for Ecklie and Dayshift  
_

Ecklie:

_Winter for Nightshift and Swing  
_

All:

_Springtime for Ecklie and Dayshift  
Come on, CSIs  
Admit were the best!  
_

Sofia: (spoken)  
_You may have some strings to pull_

_Only a few spots are available._

Ecklie: (spoken)  
_Don't be afraid to cause a rift, _

_Come and transfer to Dayshift!_

All:

_Springtime for Ecklie and Dayshift  
This shift is craving the way!  
Springtime for Ecklie and Dayshift  
Winter for Nightshift and Swing_

The voices faded as the group moved down the hall.

--

It took Sara and Greg several hours to process the make-up room turned murder room and the closet, not before the police had swept the theatre and surrounding area until, finally, it was deemed phantom-free. The power had been turned back on after calling in the daytime janitor and a very frazzled looking Sofia had been freed from her cupboard (she then rushed immediately back to complain to Ecklie). Sara and Greg then began a sweep of the theatre for any shred of evidence that might lead them to the killer, accompanied by two uniformed officers (Bossman's orders) in case the suspect from earlier decided to attack anymore law enforcement personal. In the mean time, an APB was put out for a tall male suspect in a cloak and mask, listening to Brass call it in over the radio almost cheered Greg and Sara up.

Almost.

Greg and Sara now found themselves in the morgue, joined by Doc Robbins.

"What can you tell us about Miss Jones?" Sara asked.

Doc began to sing:

_Blunt force trauma _

To the top of the head 

_And a fracturing of the Parietal bone_

_There was massive hemorrhaging on the brain _

_And soon Juliet was dead_

_Yeah!_

Greg studied the large contusion to the top of the vic's head. "No distinctive markings…could be anything larger than a fist…baseball bat…club…lamp." he straightened up. "This definitely wasn't in the play."

"We tested everything in that room for blood, the killer must have taken the murder with them." Said Sara.

Before she had to leave for court, Sara and Greg headed down to the Print Lab to check up with the slew of prints lifted from their scene when they heard a familiar shrill voice: "What do you MEAN I can't!"

The CSIs turned to find Veronica Webber, the understudy for Tracey Jones accompanied by a man Greg recognized as one of the Capulets, harassing Judy at the receptionist desk.

"What seems to be the problem?" Sara asked a very miffed Veronica.

"I'll tell you what's the problem! You people have taken hostage half of our props and costumes!"

"Ronnie needs to have Juliet's dress taken in." The Capulet Man explained.

"We open in four days! I need it now!"

"Miss Webber," Sara said calmly, she was use to dealing with neurotic people. "A woman is dead, and you're worried about…"

"I'm her understudy, opening night's in four days, that's showbiz." She stared wistfully into space; "Oliver's so lucky I'm taking over."

"Why do you say that?" Greg asked.

"Well, just between you and me, sweetie, Ollie was fed up with that nut-case. He was only staying with Tracey for the play, I mean you can't have Juliet royally pissed at Romeo, can we? He told me she nagged and nagged him, not to mention she filled his apartment with her collection of ceramic cats. They say you don't really know a person till you live with them."

"You seem to know a lot about their situation, were you guys close?" Sara inquired.

"Tracey? God no." Veronica gasped as if Sara had suggested she die her hair back to brown (the roots were showing in her bottle-blonde do). " But yeah, Ollie and I are…close, we usually hook up in the prop room after practice during Tracey's nail appointments. The bitch never suspected a thing."

"It sounds like you and Tracey didn't exactly get along." Sara pointed out.

"I know what you're thinking, but I didn't kill her, I was at my cousin's wedding that night, about a hundred or so witnesses. I didn't get back till the police had already surrounded the place. Besides its not like I was the only one who hated her, everyone was fed up with that Pre-Madonna skank. I wouldn't have been surprised if Ollie dumped her as the curtain fell closing night." Veronica flipped her hair and pointed her chin. "Now if you would be so kind as to run off and get me my dress."

"But…" Greg began.

"I don't care if I have to rip it off her cold dead body myself, we open in-"

"That dress is evidence in an ongoing homicide investigation." Sara told Veronica, her patients wearing thin.

Veronica's big blue eyes blinked, but the message did not sink in, "Yeah, but can I have it?"

"Once the case is solved the theatre can file for their property to be returned. I trust you can see yourselves out, or I can get an officer to escort you."

"Humph." Veronica crossed her orangey-tan arms and stalked out of the lab, the Capulet following in her wake.

--

"I repeat, Miss Sidle, were you in a relationship with your boss?"

Sara hated court. It was part of the job, she knew, but Sara always tried to put as much distance between herself and sleazy lawyers as possible. But sadly, sleazy lawyers were an occupational hazard. Now this one had brought up her relationship with Grissom. Great. And to top it all off the "honorable" Judge Turpin, was leering down at her, it was totally creeping her out. She stared down the tweedy lawyer and replied. "Yes."

"Isn't that a bit unprofessional?"

_What's unprofessional is you inability realize that my eyes are up here_, she thought. "No."

"Do you like older men, Miss Sidle?"

"Objection!" The DA said.

"Goes to the character of the witness." The prosecutor defended.

"I'll allow it," Judge Turpin said, he returned his lecherous look upon Sara. "Answer the question, Miss Sidle."

--

"There is seriously something wrong with our justice system! It's like its some kind of conspiracy!" Sara fumed to Greg in the breakroom. "What did that have to do with anything?! And that Judge was giving me the creeps!"

"Well Turpin isn't the most…respected of Judges." Greg interjected.

"I don't mind if they ask us about evidence, but interrogating us about our personal business! That character stuff is a load of Bull! If I-"

"Do you want to get a Carmel Apple?"

Sara stopped ranting. "What?"

"Shifts over and I know this great little place."

"But we still need to-" 

"We _need_ a break from work, Sara. Come on."

--

Hodges had results. And normally he would have gone straight to Grissom, to personally deliver them, but he got sidetracked.

"And I was like, '_In a theatre? You don't say Greg'_," Nick was snickering. "And he claims Sara practically told him she and Grissom got frisky in the theatre."

"No way." Hodges heard Warrick say.

Nick continued, unable to control his laughter "And I haven't even told you what happened after…"

"Then Grissom, to top it all off, caught Greg and Sara," Hodges informed Henry and Mandy. "In the closet."

"So here's the deal," Warrick was saying to a wary Archie in the A/V Lab. "Sara slept with Grissom in the theatre way back when, then Greg's claiming she tried to recreate it with him, but then Brass and Grissom caught them."

"You won't believe what I heard," Mandy pulled Wendy aside in the hall. "Sara conspired with the phantom of the La Rue to cut the power in the theatre so she could take advantage of Greg to make Grissom jealous."

"…So basically the whole labs buzzing about this love triangle business." Sofia sat perched on the end of Ecklie's desk (a long time favorite position of hers) as they watched members of the Nightshift scurrying by, working on solving the cases Sin City had to offer this night.

"They're so distracted," Ecklie ran a nervous hand through what remained of his hair, "How can we stay the best lab in the country if our CSIs are all hung up about all this…"

"Oh yes, all this drama…" Sofia sighed. "Remember what it was like when she first showed up?"

"Vividly…"

FLASHBACK 

"Look at them..." Ecklie scowled through the blinds of his office as Grissom and his newest recruit, Sara Sidle, walked by. "What are we going to do?"

Sofia was perched on Ecklie's desk in a gray suit and silk blouse, brooding over the brunette who had joined the nightshift a few months ago. "I know, she thinks she can just fit right in…like she belongs here…like she's earned it. All she did was sleep with her boss…"

"You're sure?"

"Of course."

Music kicks in

Ecklie: (spoken)

_Oh that Sidle…_

Sofia: (spoken)

_Is just using Grissom_

Sofia:  
_I believe in working  
Hard to get where you are_

Ecklie:  
_He thought she loved him since they  
Met at a seminar_

Sofia:  
_She won over Grissom  
Grinding out her best_

Ecklie:  
_Anything it took to climb  
The ladder of success_

Both:  
_He fought of her advances  
But in the end that CSI  
Blew Grissom away_

Ecklie: (spoken)  
_On her knees_

Sofia: (spoken)  
_Indeed_

Sofia:  
_We know she went…_

Both:  
_Bop bop bop, To the open spot_

Ecklie:

_Slept her way to Las Vegas_

Both:  
_Gribbs got shot  
Who did Grissom call?_

Sofia:  
_Sara Sidle!_

Both:

_His old lover, from way back when._

Ecklie:  
_It didn't have nothing_

Both:

_To do with her being_

_A good scientist_

Both:  
_Did the bop bop bop  
To the top  
Lab of the country_

_Lucky was she_

_Got a prime job_

_At a top lab_

_It's not hard to get a head  
When you and your boss share a bed_

Sofia: (spoken)  
_I bet it wasn't hard_

Ecklie: (spoken)  
_For Grissom_

Sofia:  
_She was gonna…_

Both:  
_Bop bop bop, bop to the top_

Ecklie:  
_Purely on her unique skills_

Both:  
_Why else would she be here?_

Sofia:  
_It's finally clear!_

Both:  
_Bop bop bop, straight to the top  
She's got him under her thumb_

Ecklie:  
_She'll use Grissom for all the man's got!_

Sofia: _Got_

Both:  
_Till she reaches the top!_

_Bop to the top!_

END FLASHBACK 

"I can't believe it took their friends so long to figure it out." Ecklie laughed. "I mean, remember how pissed she got when he didn't recommend her for that key position _she so thought deserved_."

"…After doing all those key positions." Sofia joined in Ecklie's laughter.

--

"Do you want a balloon?" Greg asked before biting into his half-eaten Carmel Apple.

"No thanks," Sara replied as she took in their surroundings. Greg had driven them to a little shop on a cobble stone street with surprising few neon sighs, the candy store was the kind with a zillion glass jars full of everything that could happen to sugar, sold to you by a man with a mustache in a pink striped apron.

"What is this place, anyway?"

"Fleet Street is just a little tourist spot, it's full of lots of tiny one-of-a-kind shops."

"Toto, we are not in Vegas anymore." Sara chortled. She blamed the sugar. She hadn't had a Carmel Apple since her mother took her to the fair when she was ten. "So who do you think killed Juliet?"

"Well, I'm thinking, since Veronica's alibi checks out, that Romeo did it." He took another bite of his apple that was beginning to melt a bit in the Vegas sun. "Going on Veronica's take on their relationship, he and Juliet could have gotten in a fight, maybe she found out he was messing around with her understudy. Anyway, Romeo looses his temper and hits her over the head with…"

"…Our MIA murder weapon." Sara finished. "But if Romeo was lying to Veronica to believe she had a chance and things were actually going well between him and Tracey, then Veronica could have found someone to take her out, if she believed that…"

"…It was the only way for them to be together." Greg finished. "However, if things were going well between Juliet and her Romeo, then Romeo wouldn't have been leading Veronica on…"

"What if Romeo wasn't actually leading Veronica on, and it was all in her head. We've basing this all on what Veronica told us." Sara pointed out.

"Yes, but while you were in court, I was processing the slew of costumes we collected…" Greg trailed off.

"And?"

"Help! Help! Somebody help!" Came a little girl's voice.

"Uh-oh." Greg said, he and Sara took off running down the quaint little street towards the cries. They rounded a corner to find a sobbing girl in an alley.

"What's wrong?" Sara asked the little girl.

"Mr. Meowinsteen, he's got himself stuck!" The little girl sobbed, throwing herself against Sara's legs. The two CSIs looked up to find an orange cat cowering in one of the street's artificial trees.

"Don't worry, I'll get him." Greg said, shrugging off his jacket.

"Greg are you sure?" Sara asked. "We could call somebody."

"No, Sar, I got this."

Sara watched as Greg grabbed a hold of one of the tree's lower branches. He hoisted himself up, wrapping his legs around the branch before pulling himself up to grasp a higher one.

"I couldn't leave him! Everyone's cats have gone missing! I know its Mrs. Lovette whose been taking 'em! She bakes them into pies, she does!" The little girl sobbed into Sara's side.

Greg meanwhile, had used all his jungle-gym skills and was now a foot from the cat, _rescuing a kitty for a little girl, what better way to impress a woman? _

But the cat had other plans.

Mr. Meowinsteen the third decided he did not want to share his tree with the spiky-haired CSI and lunged at Greg's arm with a hiss!

"Arrggghhhh!" Greg yelled, losing his balance. This caused both cat and man to go plummeting towards the earth. However, Mr. Meowinsteens, unlike Gregs, always land on their feet. So while the cat successfully detached himself from Greg and landed on all fours, Greg was left to land on the back of a busted car.

"Greg!"

"Mr. Meowinsteen!"

While Sara checked to see if Greg had broken anything, the little girl had scoped up the orange cat and with a "thanks mister" was gone.

"Greg are you okay?" Sara leaned over an eagle-spread Greg. "How any fingers am I holding up?"

"Aaaaaaa………"Greg ambled off the car, despite Sara's protest about spinal injuries, "I'm fined." He grumbled, he was going to be black and blue tomorrow.

"What's that smell?" Sara asked, sniffing the air.

"Aftershave?"

"Smells like decomp."

"Umm…"

Sara ignored him and reached for the truck of the car. Locked. She walked to the front to the car and found the door unlocked.

"What are you doing?

"I know that smell." Sara stated as she checked the car for body parts, upon finding none, she flicked the switch under the driver's seat to unlock the trunk.

Greg pulled open the trunk and was met with a wave of the familiar vomit-inducing smell of decomposition. "Male D.B."

Sara joined him at the back of the car, "I'll call it in," Sara said, reaching for her cell phone.

As they waited, Greg took a seat in the shade of the artificial tree of doom. _Its not like it was a date or anything, but still, _Greg thought, _when a guy takes a girl out for Carmel Apples, the night shouldn't end with the him falling out of a tree and the girl finding a dead body. _

_It could only happen to us. _


	5. My Humps

A/N: Song Parody to "I Won't Say I'm In Love" Form Disney's Hercules. Also lyrics from the songs "My Humps" by The Black Eyed Peas, "Fashion Hour" by The Audtion and "The Worst Pies In London" From Sweeney Tod were used.

Catherine's royal blue Pedro Garcia satin slingbacks came to a halt as a whirlwind of paper burst out of Grissom's office door, followed by Greg. The ex-lab Tech looked extremely frustrated as he began to gather the papers off the floor. Upon catching sight of Catherine, he began to explain. "I just asked him if he had the results for the trace found on Tracey Jones' shoes and he threw, _threw_ them at me!"

"Well, maybe you should have waited a little longer before making a move on his ex."

"I never, _never_ touched her." The very neurotic Greg protested, complete with hand gestures. "I mean I like Sara, but I don't think she's ready for a relationship or anything right now. I know everyone thinks I jumped her in that closet...or that she jumped me, anyway, doesn't matter. Point is: I swear to you Catherine, nothing happened."

"Maybe you should tell Grissom."

"Are you _crazy_? He'll probably throw something heavier at me! Catherine, you have to talk to him, he'll listen to you!" With that Greg rushed off, trace results in hand, as if determine to put as much lab between him and his pissed off boss as possible.

Catherine sighed and entered Grissom's office. She was not surprised to find it shrouded in darkness, and it's occupant seated in his desk chair, facing the wall.

"Grissom?"

A grunt from the chair was the only acknowledgment.

"Greg would like me to inform you that he did not touch Sara."

Grissom did not respond.

"For the love of God," Catherine strolled up behind the desk and pushed the chair so it swiveled around to face her, Grissom and all. "You have to stop sulking. Remember when you said you and Sara were professionals and that your relationship wouldn't effect your work? Now look at you! You should be out picking beetles off a rotting corpse, not holed up in your office."

"I have paperwork." He responded bluntly.

"Paperwork?" Catherine threw him her trademark you're-shitting-me expression, "Since when have you cared about paperwork? I think-"

"I know exactly what you think Catherine, you were nice enough to put it to music and announce it to the entire lab. And what did you mean by 'what you did to her'? What did _I_ do to _her_?" Grissom asked, recalling their pervious conversation.

"Lord, Grissom, she had to talk to _someone_! She's got no family and do you think she'd confide in me or something? We reckon she didn't even say half of what was on her mind, Warrick says she just broke down and told Brass…" Catherine seemed to be struggling between telling him everything, hoping it would help and telling him nothing to respect Sara's privacy. "She told him you two broke up and how she felt about what happened…and how you treated her."

"I never hurt Sara."

"I know," Catherine said sympathetically; this man was so lost. "But you didn't let her in, you didn't trust her-"

"I trusted her with a lot of things-"

"Listen, I obviously don't know half of what went on between you two, but I will say one thing," Catherine leaned in and let her eyes bore into his to make sure he was paying attention. "If you want her, if you love her, then you _will_ fight for her."

And with that she strolled out of his office, heels clicking.

Grissom sighed, if only it was that simple. What was he supposed to do? Challenge Greg to a duel in the ballistics lab? There was no point. If Sara didn't want to continue their relationship, what could he do to change her mind? He had told Sara he loved her, that should be enough. He had given her his heart, and she'd broken it, just like a part of him always knew she would.

But part of him also felt he deserved it, he'd failed as a boyfriend with the 'Lady Heather Incident' and he'd failed as a CSI by not being able to catch the Miniature Killer. As a result of his insufficient skill to identify Natalie Davis as the infamous Miniature Killer, she had been able to hurt Sara, all because she had been in a relationship with him.

He'd broken a longtime promise to himself, he had given into Sara Sidle and the price was higher than he had ever imagined.

Despite all the wonderful memories he had made with Sara (cue montage, you can imagine your own, just think frolicking on the beach, running through cornfields and picnics where ants are welcome) over the past two years, he couldn't help but regret chasing after her and initiating their relationship. If he hadn't, she wouldn't have spent all those hours trapped in the desert, suffering…

Grissom had told her he loved her, and only her, forever, as she had fallen into his arms in the desert, having pulled herself free of the wrecked mustang. He hadn't even been sure that she that she was fully coherent, but he'd kissed her and declared his love, in front of witnesses. But the next day when she was fully awake, having previously listened to him pour his soul out as she slipped in and out of consciousness, informed him of what had been going through her head the pervious week.

He was now well aware of the why she was mad at him but, he reasoned, she knew being in a relationship with him would be difficult. According to her the deterioration of their relationship was due to his inability to express his feelings, and she'd told him so in the hospital once she was lucid.

He could remember it so vividly…

"_I gave up, Grissom," Sara said to him. "I'm giving up again." She began to edge away from him. "That night when… things changed between us, I knew it was only because of the night at the mental hospital… It was only because in that moment you realized how short life was…" He remembered how she had looked at him through the glass as Adam Trent threatened her life. He would never forget that look. _

"_Sara...that…" He didn't know what to say. He never knew what to say. Why is it that when he looks in those broken brown eyes everything changes?_

"_I think that…maybe if you didn't come so close to losing me, or that it could have so easily been ether of us buried in that box instead of Nick, that things would have never changed." She looked at him, her eyes begging for him to contradict her, but he couldn't, so she pressed on. "And now it's happening all over again, don't you see? If this..." she gestured to the bandages encasing her damaged ribs, "…Had never happened, you never would have told me how you feel."_

"_When you were missing…" Grissom struggled, "All I could think about was how I was too late…I realized when I took that sabbatical that I didn't want to live another day without you. But I couldn't…"_

"_You couldn't tell me…" Sara stared at her hands. _

"_And when I saw that miniature and you weren't answering your phone…I just kept thinking about how I had figured it out, I knew what I needed to do, I needed to find you and tell you everything…and then I began to realize that I probably wouldn't get the chance." He reached out and grasped her frail hand, he needed to touch her, know she was real, know she was alive. He was comforted the pulse he felt as he ran his thumb across the underside her wrist. "I just kept wishing that the last time I saw you that I had told you I loved you…" Their relationship had been rocky ever since the 'Lady Heather Incident', the night Sara had been at his townhouse waiting for him, while he was with another woman. Even though nothing had happened between him and Heather, it didn't matter. He had left her to find out about it through the lab grapevine. Sara and Grissom had never had the best communication skills. _

_They'd seen each other less outside of work after that night, Sara had suggested they spent some time apart and had applied for vacation time. Grissom had spent the hours Sara had been abducted wishing that they hadn't been fighting or that he had just thrown caution to the wind and told her how he felt. But he couldn't tell her, he couldn't admit that she held his heart, even though he knew she's had it for years. _

_But before tonight he couldn't seem to tell her, something held him back, there was always something holding him back. Always the voice in his head reminding him that letting people in only gets you burned. _

"_I knew." She said, simply. "That night when Natalie… You're all I thought about… You're all I thought about for years."_

_She was going to say more, but at that moment his lips fell upon hers and he kissed her desperately. He felt her chapped lips move with his, evidence of her long episode trapped in the desert._

_Sara pulled away as if suddenly doused with cold water. "What's wrong, honey? Did I hurt you?" Grissom asked, worried._

"_No." She said, more weighing on that word than he expected. "I just… I can't do this." She pulled her hands from his. "You can't just come in here suddenly wearing your heart on your sleeve and expect that everything will be okay. If this whole thing hadn't of happened… I never would have known where you stand. I can't stumble through this relationship blind anymore, Grissom. What kind of turmoil do we have to endure for our relationship to move forward? What's going to have to happen next? Do I have to get mugged for us to move in together? Get shot for you to propose?"_

_He didn't know what to say, part of him wanted to tell her she was wrong; he wanted all those things with her minus the heartache. He wanted to tell her that he wanted nothing more than to wake up next to her everyday, wanted to make her pancakes every morning, Hell, Gil Grissom wanted to make his wife pancakes. But the other part advised him to remain silent, since she was mostly right. _

"_I… I think you should go now." She didn't make eye contact again and Grissom rose from the uncomfortable hospital chair in an obedient trance. _

_

* * *

_"I took Drama in High School and let me tell you, theatre folk are some kinky people." 

"You're not serious…"

"Sex in costume." Greg declared in the Layout Room. "Our dear Ronnie is an extra and I tested her dress and found her vaginal contribution mixed with, guess whose semen?"

"Romeo?" Sara guessed, remembering Veronica Webber's monologue about Oliver Rogers, otherwise known as Romeo.

"The one and only."

"What about Juliet?" Sara held up the costume's black corset to her lab coat-clad torso. "Who was she trading fluids with? Tybalt?"

"Just Romeo."

"Sara," Nick stood in the doorway, "What is it with you and lingerie evidence?"

Sara rolled her eyes and placed the corset back with the dress.

"Doc's finished the trunk guy's prelim." Nick informed them.

"So still no identification?" Inquired Sara.

"Nope. John Doe." Nick explained. "And Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"Several witnesses reported seeing a suspect fall out of an artificial tree, that wouldn't happen to have been you?"

* * *

There were two barbers on Fleet Street. Trace had showed that residue found on John Doe's face was identified as an expensive shaving cream. Grissom remembered a man in a wig selling "Pirelli's Magic Elixir" in front of a barbershop, no doubt ran by the man with whose name was attached to the potion. So he and Brass now found themselves in front of an Italian man with large moustache and even larger stomach forcing that very product onto Brass. 

"I swear to you on my grandmumzzer's grave, zimply apply zit-"

"Listen Buddy, " Brass silenced Pirelli, "We just need to know if you saw this man."

The captain showed the barber a photo of the John Doe found in the trunk by Sara and Greg yesterday.

"No sorry, I never seen 'em before zin my life." Pirelli waved the photo away before trying to change the subject. "Now you sure? You should really consider my Elixir! Full 'ead of 'air like zat!"

He snapped his fingers.

"Are you positive you don't know him? He was found dead down the street." Brass gestured out the Barbershop window.

"So zat is what all ze commotion was about. Sorry, never seen 'em, probably goes to Todd's, bastards been stealing all my customers with silly give-aways and cheap gimmicks. Talk to 'em if you want, but ze man is a loon! Loony as zey come! Total Wac-a-doo!"

"Loony enough to kill someone?"

Pirelli shrugged. Brass bid him goodbye and turned to Grissom.

Grissom was sniffing a bottle of Elixir.

"Ah…Gil?"

"What does this smell like to you?" He asked Brass, offering the open bottle of Elixir.

Brass gave him a "What the hell?" expression before conceding and smelling the contents of the bottle.

"Piss."

"Thought so."

* * *

"So what you're saying, Cath," Warrick addressed the blonde in the driver's seat beside him, she always insisted on driving when they went to scenes together, claiming his speeding and sharp turns took years off her life and left her clutching the 'Death Handle' on her car door. "Is that we're just going to wait here 'till Brass gets the warrant." 

"Exactly."

"Instead of going back to the lab to process the Collins evidence?"

"Zuko did it, 'Rick, I can feel it in my gut. This guy's guilty, he's bound to make a run for it, every second counts." Catherine yanked the lever on her seat dropping in back a couple of inches. "Besides, we're off duty."

"So we wait?"

"We wait."

Catherine pushed her overlarge brown sunglasses over her eyes. After several moments of silence on the stakeout, Warrick flipped on the radio. Catherine began to hum along. "…So don't pull on my hand boy, You ain't my man, boy, I'm just tryn'a dance boy, And move my hump."

"My hump," Warrick found himself sing, why is this stupid song so damn addicting? "My hump, my hump, my hump," Soon they were both singing full-tilt "My lovely lady lumps…My lovely lady lumps…My lovely lady lumps. In the back and in the front. My lovin' got you.."

* * *

"She's got me spendin'…" 

"Shut up Johnson." Brass barked at the officer beside him as they watched Catherine's hand thump a steady beat against the outside of the car door. Behind them, another officer was escorting a handcuffed Zuko into a police cruiser.

"Sorry." He paused then. "Should we wait 'till their finished?"

Todd, Pirelli's rival Barber, didn't come off as crazy to Grissom. His off-center nose and sunken eyes made his appearance a little discontenting, but crazy wasn't the word Grissom would use.

Todd seemed simply broken.

"'Course I recognize the bloke, frightened the cat, he did." Todd explained as he cleaned his razor collection. "I had just finished shaving him when Fluffy came in and the bloke took off screaming about rats." Todd indicated a scruffy chestnut kitten curled up in the corner.

"This "bloke" wouldn't happen to have a name?" Brass inquired.

"Something Smith."

"You know "Mr. Smith" died from wounds caused by a thin sharp blade." Grissom informed Todd while examining the arraignment of razors. "Much like these."

"Officer, I don't know much about killin' people, that's your job, but I do know that no one on Fleet Street killed this poor man. It is peaceful here, I'll wager it's the quietest place in Vegas. It was someone from the outside who brought evil here. Look elsewhere for your killer, Mr. Grissom."

* * *

Nick walked into the break room and spotted Sara. "Sara, I have the prefect guy for you!" 

"You're enthusiastic," Greg smirked. "Next thing you know, you'll be growing breasts."

Nick smacked Greg up-side the head before turning back to Sara. "He just moved here from California, old friend of mine and he's single and looking."

"Hmmm…" Sara pretended to consider the offer. She was well aware of Grissom watching them out of the corner of his eye, pretending to make coffee. "Does he have an accent?"

"Of course." Came Nick's Texas drawl.

"It's a tempting offer." Sara sighed, "But I've sworn off men for a while."

"Come one Sara, it's men not carbs." Catherine put in as Sara fixed herself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, Sara." Greg pleaded. "Don't give up on us."

"You have to get back in the game." Nick nudged her.

Catherine stood up from the table ands joined Nick and Sara. "Don't let one bad relationship ruin your life."

Grissom chose to make his exit.

**Sara:**

It's been more than one bad relationship

On the road to find the one

I really have the worst goddamn luck

You can do what you want.

That's it! I'm done!

**Nick:**

Oh Sara, wait and see

Anthony's such a great guy

He could make you happy

Don't let Grissom be the last guy

Find someone funner

Find someone younger

Someone to give you hope!

**Sara:**

I'll be okay

I just need time

To heal

**Cath:**

A man will help

Come on, what's the big deal?

**Sara:**

It was Cliché

I've given up on love

Sara walked over to the other end of the break room, cradling her cup of coffee.

I need some time to sort my life out

Not looking to go steady

Just drop the subject about your friend

I'm sure he's great but I'm just not ready

**Nick, Greg & Cath:**

You keep on talking

About needing to move on

Baby, stop the sulkin'

And get back on the horse again

You're not so washed-up

After this bad breakup

Time to

**Nick: **

Try

**Cath:**

Try

**Nick, Greg & Cath:**

Try again!

**Sara:**

Not gonna happen

I've given up

**Greg:**  
I've had a thought  
You kids can make a bet

**Sara:**  
This scene won't play,  
I've given up on love

**Nick & Cath:**

You pick the terms and affirm  
Whatcha say?

**Sara:**  
Stomach contents  
Of our trunk vic  
First to identify

Will take all

**Nick:**  
Sounds good to me

If I win, you'll go out

**Sara:**  
Fine  
But If I win  
Nick, you are doomed

* * *

"Chicken, Mashed Potatoes, Onion, Carrots and Pastry." Sara indicated each plastic tub lined up on the Layout Room table.

"That's an impressive list, Sara." Nick commented. Sara folded her arms. "But I went on a hunch based on what Greg said was the word around on Fleet Street."

"Which is, Mrs. Lovett uses cats in her pies?" Greg asked, confused.

"You tested the pies…for cat?" Sara gasped.

"Yes, but it turns out Mrs. Lovett ran out of kitties and threw in…" Nick trailed off.

"Spit it out." Sara demanded

"Vic's stomach contents contained undercooked human."

"You're kidding me." Sara deadpanned.

"So who wins?" Greg asked. "You both technically identified some of the stomach contents."

"We need a judge." Sara suggested.

"I'll decide." Greg volunteered.

"We need an impartial judge." Nick pointed out. "I have an idea."

A few minutes later, Hodges was examining the plastic tubs Sara had used to sort the stomach contents, and studying Nick's results.

"As valiant and impressive your work is Sara, I'm afraid it doesn't beat cannibalism."

"Yes!" Nick yelled.

Sara sulked. "You bought him a hamster didn't you?"

* * *

"A customer!" A woman Nick assumed must be Mrs. Lovett, owner of the establishment, shouted, as he and Grissom entered the pie shop. 

"Mrs. Lovett, we were wondering if you recognize this…" Grissom began but the baker cut him off.

"What's your rush? Half a minute, can't ya sit? All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks! Did ya come here for a pie, sirs?"

"We've from the Crime Lab..."

"Ugh! What is that?" The woman caught sight of a beetle crawling across her counter. Nick cringed. Grissom picked it up. "But you'd think we had the plague?"

Nick frowned. "Plague?"

Grissom ignored them both, "The Silphid Beetle."

"What are ya waitin' for? Kill the thing!"

Grissom withdrew a glass container from his jacket and placed the beetle inside. "For my collection. If you don't mind."

"Whatever tickles you're fancy, s'long as he's outta my shop." Then she muttered. "Stranger the folk out in Vegas."

"Yeah, anyway," Nick showed her the photo of the John Doe, "Do you know this man? He's died with a full stomach down the street."

"Oh, 'im."

"You know him?"

"I's never forget a face, I don't. That's Neil Cohen; ordered a load of pies from me last week for some banquet such thing next week, guess it's good he gave me half up-front. It was a lot of pies." She chuckled. "Good for me. Don't get much business."

"Maybe you should reconsider the name." Grissom gestured outside to the sign over the door, which bore the name 'Worst Pies in London'.

"I's not that, reverse psychology." She explained, matter-of-factly. "It's the heath-code violations that keeps the patrons away." She spat on the ground and then continued in a singsong voice that greatly bothered Grissom, "Pies are not much ether, Alas! Mind you I can hardly blame them! These are probably the worst pies in Vegas. I know why nobody cares to take them! I should know! I make them!"

"Uh-huh… Well we'll be…" Nick began.

"Isn't that a room up there? Over the shop?" Grissom commented. "If times are so hard, why don't you rent it out? Should bring in something..."

"Up there? Huh, no one'll go near it. People think it's haunted." Mrs. Lovett explained, beginning to chop some carrots behind the counter. "You see years ago something happened, something not very nice."

"Someone chopped up people and put them in pies and then sold them?" Said Nick, sarcastically.  
Mrs. Lovett cackled and turned to Grissom and gestured the Nick with her knife. "He's a joker, this one ain't 'e?" She returned to her carrots. "No, there was this fella, won't say his name, not right, lived up there with 'is wife and little daughter before they shipped 'im off to jail."

"Why?" Asked Grissom, Nick zoned out looking for more heath-code violations.

She shrugged.

"Not sure, seemed like an alright blighter to me. She was a pretty little thing, his wife, suppose her daughter would look just like her…"

"What happened to her?"

"No one knows, vanished, they found the wife dead, right up there, over our very heads," She pointed the tip of her knife towards the ceiling. "Killed herself, and the baby was no where to be found, the police looked for her…but that was before you're time." She paused then gestured to a half-gone pie on the counter. "Would you like to try some?"

"Aaaaa…"

"Errrr….."

"Ummmm…."

"Were….vegans!" Chirped Nick.

"Yes! Serious vegans, the both of us." Grissom struggled.

"Meat…ewwww." Nick had no trouble acting disgusted as he stared at the brown blob what was suppose to be pie.

"Well, too bad."

* * *

"DNA's back." Sara handed Greg a print out and sat down at the break room table. 

"Wow, blood's Juliet's. This is good." Declared Greg. "So the killer could have gone there to clean up after the murder, or they could have picked up the rag anywhere and stashed it there."

"The killer could still be anyone." Sara sighed.

"Yeah, but we know Romeo was cheating on his 'beloved' Juliet. I say we arrange for a little chat with our tragic Shakespearean hero. She found out, they fought, and he killed her."

"Super."

"Hey how come you're so glum? Still depressed that you have to leave your apartment and try to, dare I say, have fun?"

"You know, stomach contents are basically vomit." Sara mused angrily. "I sorted through _vomit_, to insure I didn't have to, as you put it, 'have fun'."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm also against this whole you-on-a-date-with-Nick's-friend thing."

"Thanks Greg. That really helps."

"Anytime" He chuckled and placed his hands on her shoulders

* * *

Grissom had locked himself in the office. 

Again.

Bits of music flitted through the walls, the windows and mostly though the crack under the door. The offending words found his ears and he caught bits of lyrics. "Dr. Jekyll or Hyde" came up often, but he also made out "Lab Coat" "Through Chemicals" and "Dance Shoes".

What Rubbish.

Utter Rubbish.

It was not the same as before, when his coworkers had sung in clear voices to him, nor were they bits of new songs others had broken into when he was not present ("Follow the Evidence" seemed to be a favorite). No, this one had too much electric guitar and drums.

The tempo of the music changed and he new the song had begun. Whoever the vocalist was he was a lot angrier than before. The music was fast, pulsing and desperate. This song was loud and the lyrics flew through the lab drenching the blue tinted maze in its spiteful, angsty verse. "My lips were writing checks my heart couldn't cash/ cause it was empty with nothing but your memories/ your perfect smile and innocent eyes…"

Grissom massaged his temples as another voice joined the first, screaming the lyrics a beat after the first on select lines.

"I'm sorry that you feel this way,  
I'm sorry for taking up space  
I'm sorry that you'll never love again  
sorry for being sorry all the time"

This song was not his apologetic lament, he reasoned with himself. It was most normal people's reactions to relate to a song, that's how artists sold records and made millions. By playing on people emotions, everyone breaks up, everyone falls apart, those lost souls now able to find solace in the screaming singer that seemed to scare their pain.

"Don't want the agony back!"

Grissom did not wish to emerge from his sanctuary, but as the singer broke into another resonant chorus, he knew he had to put a stop to it all, how was anyone suppose to get any work done over this screaming?

"I never lied when I said..."

Once in the hall he was quite sure he had made the right decision, the music was much louder that he thought.

"…That I loved you..."

_She didn't believe you... _Teased the voice in his head.

"Shut up." Grissom told the voice.

"And that I still do...  
put the 12th stitch inside of my chest  
and just say goodnight  
just say goodbye"

He felt a migraine coming on.

"Even a spider would get caught up in this web…"

The insect metaphor did it. He pulled the plug out of the stereo and the racket ceased.

"Greg-" Grissom growled.

"It's all lies!" Greg yelled, running to the other side of the table, putting a large sturdy object between them, he was glad Sara had already left, he'd hate to be caught in the middle of a fight between her and Grissom, and God knows those two are due one.

"Whatever happened or happens between you and…anyone…"

Wow this is really hard for him, thought Greg.

"…Outside off work is no ones business…however doing…such things…on company time is not…permitted."

"It was the phantom! He locked us in there!"

"What phantom?"

"The Phantom! You know! White mask, black cape, intimate knowledge of the theatre."

"The Phantom of the Opera?"

"Yes! Exactly!"

"So what you're saying is that The Phantom of the Opera locked you and Sara in a closet?"

"Ahhh…yes?"

"Listen, it is possible that the perp locked you in that closet." Grissom explained calmly. "But as for this phantom business, this is reality, there's no such thing as phantoms."


	6. Ecstasy?

A/N: Okay kids, this monster chapter includes a parody of "Kiss the Girl" from The Little Mermaid (The Ashley Tisdale Cover because it was on my Ipod) and one of "Miss Baltimore Crabs" from Hairspray because it was writing itself in my head as I watched Michelle Pfeiffer belt it out in the theatre. Oh, and I making Lindsey blonde again.

Warning: This chapter contains a flood, dancing, quotes and Sara screaming into her cell phone.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Where were you the night Tracey was murdered?"

Sofia and Sara sat at the metal table across from Oliver Rogers, otherwise known as Romeo; Greg was in the back, leaning against the wall by the window that separated the interrogation room from the viewing room.

Their suspect was currently leaning back in his chair, arms calmly folded on his chest. Oliver didn't seem at all bothered at all that he was being interviewed over the subject of his dead girlfriend.

"I already told you."

"Refresh my memory."

"Home."

"Can anyone verify that?"

"No."

"Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Tracy?"

"No, she was a very good person."

"Were you cheating on her?"

"No."

"Well you see, Mr. Rogers," Sofia said as she slid an evidence photo of Veronica Webber's costume across the table for Oliver to see. "We found your DNA-which you so graciously volunteered-on the costume of her understudy."

"Care to explain?" Sara asked.

"I wasn't cheating on her."

Sara rolled her eyes. "If you weren't cheating on her then why is you're seminal fluid doing on another woman's dress?"

"I was wearing it." Oliver explained.

"Excuse me?" Sara's eyebrow's moved toward her hairline.

"Yeah, I like it." Oliver responded coolly with a shrug. "Gets me off, chick clothes." He blew Sara a kiss.

Sofia rolled her eyes.

Sara glared.

Meanwhile, Greg wondered if he would be fired if he throttled the suspect.

"See, Oliver," Sara said, calmly. "I don't believe you-"

"I like your shirt."

Greg wished he were in one of those old cop shows where you could do anything short of hang a suspect out the window by their feet to get a confession, because he really, _really_, wanted an excuse to get his hand's on Oliver Rogers.

"…Because mixed with your semen we found Veronica's DNA. Furthermore, according to her you two did in fact have an intimate relationship." Sara finished.

"Listen, Ronnie's lying," Oliver told the detective and two CSIs. "As for this DNA stuff, well, maybe she whacked off in it to."

"That's not how it works-." Greg said.

"How does it work, then?" Oliver interrupted with a cocky grin.

Music Starts

"You killed the girl, Juliet, after she caught you cheating." Greg told him.

"Woman scorn." Sara added.

"Crime of passion." Sofia put in.

Greg began to sing….

Here's your Girlfriend  
Portraying your Juliet  
You thought she was hot, I bet  
But there's something about her  
And you don't know why  
But she has to die  
You wanna kill the Girl

Sofia:

Yes, you hate her  
Being with her drives you insane  
She's unaware of you're disdain  
No wonder you can't stand her  
She needs to be whacked, or you're going to crack  
You need to Kill the Girl

Sofia, Sara and Greg:

Sha-la-la-la-la  
My oh my  
Juliet's got to die  
You have to kill the girl  
Sha-la-la-la-la  
Hit in the head  
Finally gone, she's dead  
But you got a new girl  
And so you killed old girl (killed the girl)

Sara:

Now's your moment  
Girlfriend's got her back turned  
Then before the cast returned  
Head wound, blunt force trauma  
She can't scream a word  
No, she won't scream a word  
Because you killed the girl

Sofia, Sara and Greg:

Sha-la-la-la-la  
Even though  
You were her Romeo  
You had to kill the girl  
Sha-la-la-la-la  
Hit in the head  
Finally gone,  
She's dead; youreally killed the girl

Sha-la-la-la-la  
Now don't lie  
You got no alibi  
We know you killed the Girl  
Sha-la-la-la-la  
Confess now  
You did it, we know how  
_You_ really killed the girl  
In cold blood, killed the girl  
(killed the girl)  
(oh, ohnoo..)  
(killed the girl, killed the girl)

La-la-la-la, La-la-la-la  
We know you killed the girl  
La-la-la-la, La-la-la-la  
We know you killed the girl

Sha-la-la-la-la  
My oh my  
Juliet had to die  
You had to kill the girl  
Sha-la-la-la-la  
Hit in the head  
Finally gone, she's dead  
That's how you killed the girl

Sofia and Sara:  
La-la-la-la, La-la-la-la

Greg:  
We know you killed the girl

Oliver:  
I didn't kill the girl!

Sofia and Sara:  
La-la-la-la, La-la-la-la

Greg:  
We know you killed the girl

Oliver:  
I didn't kill the girl!  
Kill the girl!

Sofia, Sara and Greg:  
Killed the girl  
Admit you killed the girl…

After the final note Oliver sprang to his feet and bellowed: "I want a lawyer!"

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Everything's just the way you left it," Edna Nelson, who was portraying the Nurse in the Theatre De le Rue's production of Romeo and Juliet, ushered Greg and Sara down the stairs to their crime scene, the basement of the Theatre.

"Good Luck."

The CSIs expected her to leave them alone, but Edna preferred to hang out at the top of the stairs and watch. Suspicious, much?

"I'll get the lights." Sara volunteered.

"Leave them off." Greg flicked on his flashlight. "This is cooler."

"Okay, we need a murder weapon." Sara began spraying random objects with luminol. "We've got motive for Romeo, we just need proof that he killed her."

"He could have used anything, washed it off, and then placed it back among the props." Said Greg as he sprayed a collection of medieval helmets. Having no luck he moved over to the blood spatter decorating the old fireplace, careful not to step in the dried blood pool. "Behold the Broken Heart!"

"What? The broken heart?" Sara cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Greg began, indicating a gaudy metal and wood heart set into the intricate design adorning the mantel of the fireplace.

"Legend has it that a girl found her would-be husband doing one of the stage hands…on the very place we now stand and placed a curse on them and the mantel they did the dirty deed under."

"And you know this how, Greg?"

"I was talking to the crew; this one guy, Gus, very superstitious. Anyway, he says it common knowledge that if you move that heart it will bleed and you'll be cursed with seven years bad luck."

"Isn't that a mirror?"

"Hey, it's just what I heard." Greg stated, raising his hands in surrender.

"Well," Sara stated, as she dragged one of the make-up chairs over to the fireplace. "I don't believe in curses."

She stood on the chair and put two gloved hands on the heart. Greg placed his hand on her back as she extracted the heart out of the wooden base.

"Just feel like tempting fate, Sidle?"

"Call it a hunch…" She smiled as she stepped off the chair. "And why did you put a hand on my back?"

"So you wouldn't fall. The Phantom could have rigged it, you never know."

"It's a chair Greg, about what, two feet off of the ground?"

"You could still break a bone or something…never know."

Sara rolled her eyes.

Greg looked at the heart and saw a smear of red on the back. He swabbed the heart and tested it, the swab turned pink. "Positive. That's real blood."

"My God!" Edna Nelson screamed; she turned and fled up the stairs to alert the others. "The legend is true!"

"This job never gets old." Greg mused as he watched the woman flee. He turned back to Sara.

Suddenly the sprinklers went off.

Greg and Sara's eyes met through the spray of ice-cold water.

"Phantom." They declared in unison.

"Still don't believe in curses?"

"This is not the time, swab it!" Sara ordered, trying to shield the murder weapon with her body.

Quick as lightning Greg whipped out a swab and retrieved a sample of blood staining one side of the heart, quickly shoving it into one of the pockets on his vest before it could get wet.

"Just great!" Sara complained as she stared at the damp murder weapon. "We'll never get prints off it now."

"I have an idea, but we've got to get back to the lab, fast!" Greg exclaimed as he grabbed Sara's hand and made a bolt for the stairs that led up to the stage.

"But our stuff…" Sara complained as she stared at their kits on the floor, slowly getting covered in water.

"Leave it, you have another kit back at the lab. Our supplies is expendable, our evidence isn't." Greg replied as he continued to drag her across the room.

He knew that even though they were just fire sprinklers, the water they let loose could add up quickly and possibly flood the small room in a very short amount of time. And even though he had suspected that the Phantom had set them off, there was always the possibility that it wasn't just a harmless prank. The theatre was old and so was the wiring, anything could've happened, a spark, a power shortage, or worse.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they were almost up to their knees in water. Greg halted just as Sara tried to jump onto the first step.

"Greg, what are you doing? We have to go." Sara exclaimed as she tried once again to start up the stairs. Greg's grip held her back.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Greg asked as he stared into the urgent eyes of his friend.

"If I ask what will you get us out of here?" Sara asked impatiently.

Ignoring her comment, Greg continued. "This reminds me of that last scene in the movie when the Phantom tells Raoul and Christine to flee and forget what they know about him in one last desperate attempt to make Christine know that he cared. You know, when they're down in that dank dungeon-like chamber with all of that water?"

"Does this have a point?"

"Yes."

"And…?"

"And what?"

"What is it Greg?" Sara screeched, noticing that the water was now mid-thigh.

"My point is that this is all a little too cliché. First Sofia claiming that the Phantom locked her in a broom cupboard under the stairs, and then us meeting the same fate, and now the sprinklers. It's like a bad gothic romance gone wrong with the whole death of Juliet and all."

"And you couldn't wait to tell me this later why?"

"Because we're missing something."

"What now?"

"The dramatic kiss scene." With that, Greg pulled Sara to him in a searing kiss, forgetting completely about their current situation. After a moment, he pulled back and stared deeply into Sara's questioning eyes.

"Now we can go." He said as he lifted he up onto the first stair that was dry, slowly wading his way up to meet her.

Sara, the reality of the situation finally settling on her, reluctantly took Greg's hand and let him lead her the rest of the way up the stairs. He had stopped them from leaving a room that nearing being completely flooded, just so he could kiss her? Thoughtful, yes. Intelligent, no.

"Greg, when we get out of here you can count on having a bruise in the shape of my hand across your face." Sara cried, her voice being drowned out by the sounds of the gushing water.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Hey Nick," Grissom walked into the Breakroom clipboard in Hand. "I have to pull you off the Cohen case. Homicide over on North Vegas."

"What about Catherine and Warrick?"

"They have a Quad Bellagio."

"Oh yeah," Nick nodded, the frowned. "Who brings a machine gun to a casino, anyway?"

"_There are only two forces in the world, the sword and the spirit. In the long run the sword will always be conquered by the spirit._"

Nick bobbed his head up and down and donned a serious expression, attempting to know that he knew what Grissom was talking about.

"And I can't even _find_ Catherine…"

"Catherine's recruiting." Nick explained.

"Recruiting?"

"Yeah, something about back-up dancers."

"And why, may I ask, would a CSI require back-up dancers?"

"Well personally I can stand on my own, but some less-talented dancers go for the effect of lots of people doing simpler moves in unison to impress the audience."

"What?"

"Exactly." He took the assignment slip from Grissom and headed towards the Garage.

Grissom set off towards the sound of a mumbo-like music. It seems he couldn't go an hour without someone breaking into song and/or dance.

He was getting sick of it.

Grissom found Catherine in the conference room; the table and chairs had been pushed into the hall. She was now instructing several doe-eyed newbie Lab Techs (more and more seemed to be cropping up everyday), her blonde daughter by her side. Mandy and Wendy watched from the water cooler, not quite ready to sell their soul and audition for Catherine.

Catherine (instructing):

Front step

cha cha cha  
Back step

cha cha cha  
Side step,

front step  
Back and turn

Mandy (spoken):  
Oh my God, Wendy, is that Henry in there?

I can't believe people are really auditioning

Wendy (spoken):  
I can't believe we're really here watching them audition.

Catherine (instructing):

Front step

cha cha cha  
Back step

cha cha cha  
Side step,

front step  
Back and- Oh Lindsay,

Look at this motley crew!  
This city's talent has sure gone downhill

Since I was crowned  
"Miss Las Vegas Strip"

Lindsay (spoken):  
Oh, Mother not more ancient history

Catherine:  
Oh my God  
How times have changed  
These techs are like chickens  
Released free-ranged  
But time seemed to halt  
When I was " Miss Las Vegas Strip "  
Lindsey! That move is far too slutty

Lindsay:  
Mother wake up from that dream of yours.  
This isn't 1970!

Catherine:  
Dear, life's a Ballistics Test

That's a bullet, but whose gun?

Oh, it's you

They can arrest  
But the crown's in the vault  
From when I lived " Miss Las Vegas Strip "

Lindsay (spoken):  
These moves are freakin' cool

Catherine:  
Let me show you how your mommy dear  
Danced to pay for night school  
Linds' go get em!

Anything but bland

At the Golden Palace  
Vegas was Wonderland  
While I was Alice  
They all looked at me  
I was all he could see  
As I danced

More than glanced

(spoken)

Enough of that,  
Good morning techies  
Let's see what you've got.

Lindsay (instructing):  
Twist, twist, twist, twist,  
Mashed potato, Mambo.

Catherine:  
Ready?

Begin.

In this lab you'll never find  
An uneducated mind

Lindsay (spoken):  
What's that, a dance for spilling chemicals?

Catherine:  
Oh, we put criminals in cells!  
Using science tricks

And fingerprints

While checking DNA  
to settle conflicts  
But that triple homicide  
Was how I clinched " Miss Las Vegas Strip."

Proceed...

Lindsey (spoken):  
Are you scared to make a mistake?

Lab Tech #1 (spoken):  
No, I'm sure I can take the stress!

Lindsey (spoken):  
Well, this lab isn't insured  
For the mindless!

Catherine:  
I never missed a single clue  
No , not I "Miss Las Vegas Strip "

Lindsey:  
This one will never survive Grissom  
With that nervous jitter

Catherine:  
Kid, she'll be backlogged  
If she doesn't work quicker

I'd say "Sleep your way"

'cause I'm  
"Miss Las Vegas Strip!"

Lindsay (spoken):  
Do you dance like you process?

Henry (spoken):  
Hey, there's no need to be cruel!

Catherine (spoken):  
Where did you go to dance school?

Lab Tech #2:  
I studied Chemistry  
At UNLV.

I thought that was enough?

Catherine:  
Not in this Lab it isn't.

And may I be blunt?  
Maybe I'm a little tough

But I know what I'm talking about

Catherine was about to break into a full fledge musical rant, but when Grissom yanked the cord on her stereo her vocals grounds to a halt.

"Everyone back to work." He demanded, brandishing the cord at the assembly.

"NOW!"

The Lab Tech's scattered, almost trampling Mandy and Wendy, who were standing beside the water Cooler. The pandemonium momentary halted as everyone paused to watch a drenched Sara and Greg running down the hall.

As soon as the two were out of sight, chatter overflowed from one person to the next, spiting out rumors of what may have happened.

"Do you think it was a coincidence?"

"Nah, it couldn't be."

"It's not raining out, how did they get wet?"

"I'm betting on another shower incident, except this time, they couldn't see everything."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Come on, we've got down to the print lab, and fast!" Greg shouted over the noise in the cluttered hallways as he dragged Sara through the lab.

However, he failed to notice that everything went deathly quiet when people noticed that they were not only together for what seemed like the hundredth time this week, but that they were both soaking wet, their hair a muss and their clothes clinging tightly to their skin.

While the Lab Techs pondered the possibilities, the two soaked CSIs in question were gathered in the print lab, dripping on the tile floor.

"Two years ago, a guy out of Canada discovered that if you saturated an object you expect to find prints on in Red Oil O, they may turn up. It's standard procedure there as well as Sweden and Australia. The US is still meditating on it." Greg explained to Sara as he spread the red dye over the heart. "Anyways, If there are prints on this heart we'll see them."

And sure enough, an hour later four beautiful prints and two partials appeared.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

A few hours after he broke up the Catherine's recruitment Grissom found Warrick in the breakroom, half a cup of coffee between two limp hands, head rested face down on the table.

"Warrick? Have you seen Catherine?"

The CSI's head shot up "Shoe impressions found by the roulette table are a size…um…" he trailed off and shook himself, Grissom noted the bags under Warrick's green eyes. "Sorry, wha'd you say?

"Brass finally got the addressee of the guy in the trunk, it turns out he rents a penthouse apartment, I was wondering if you or Catherine…"

"Sorry Boss, but we both just pulled a double…or was it a triple?" Warrick tried to recount the last 36 hours of his life. "Cath's gone to some dance recital and I'm dead on my feet and I still have a mountain of evidence to log."

"I'll try Sara." Grissom pulled out his cell phone, Greg could handle the fizzling Romeo and Juliet case solo.

"I don't know if she'll answer, last I heard she had a date." Warrick yawned.

"I'll try Greg, then." Grissom speed-dialed Greg. "He's not picking up."

Warrick supplied, "Maybe he's otherwise occupied, it is his night off."

"Sara will just have to cut her date short, then." Grissom muttered and exited the breakroom.

The nightshift supervisor attempted to someone himself before he called Sara to pull her from her current case. She was on a date, which was bound to happen sometime, had she taken Nick up on his offer? He doubted it.

Greg on the other hand, had made no secret about his feelings for Sara and after he found then all over each other in the closet there was no doubt in his mind that something was going on between those two. And Greg not picking up his phone, did nothing to ease his mind.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Despite all their efforts and hard work, Sara and Greg's trouble went un-rewarded, as no match could be found to the prints carefully recovered on the Broken Heart, but at least the blood had matched Juliet/Tracey Jones, so they knew they had their murder weapon.

Sara tried to stay past shift and let her work stray onto OT, but Nick was there to order her home to prepare for her date. Sara had argued, threatened and faked sick, but in the end she found herself at a seafood restaurant across from Anthony Hope.

He wasn't a bad guy…but he was way to chipper for Sara's liking, seriously fish were nice and all but Anthony liked them to the point of obsession.

By the time their food arrived he was deep into a one-way discussion on sealife. She had learned that his favorite fish was salmon and that he had owned his own Sailboat but sold it when his company moved him to Vegas. And he was becoming frustrated by the lack of open water in the desert; a thrust Lake Mead could not quench.

"…Then last year I caught this giant swordfish! I swear he was darn near this big!" Anthony spread his arms to emphasize his point.

"Wow." Said Sara, attempting to sound like she cared. All she had to do was the occasional "Yeah" or nod and her date was oblivious to her complete lack of interest.

Sara was considering possible means of escape when she heard the merciful ring of her cell phone. She internally groaned upon seeing the call display.

Grissom.

"It's work, excuse me." She told Anthony before answering the phone. "Sidle."

She just intended to tell him that she would come process whatever grotesque crime scene Vegas had conjured up…but things soon got out of hand: "So what if I am?…Inappropriate!? Oh, yes, _you're_ one to oppose collages dating!" She paused as Grissom reminded her of what him and Brass had witnessed in the Theatre. "What? You don't even know what you're talking about! You have some nerve!" People were now staring."…I wanted to make a clean break so we could both start over, I thought you'd understand! And at the first mention of another man you freak out!…" Sara gasped. "Don't you DARE talk about Greg like that! He did NOT take advantage of me and I am not in a fragile emotional state!…What do you mean POST TRAMATIC!"

Anthony at some point grabbed the waiter and whispered. "Check."

"Fine, is THAT what you want to hear? Then it is Greg! I'll sleep with him if you want! Are you HAPPY, now!…At least Greg doesn't chain people up for a living! That's right! Now that we're broken up you can spend all the nights you want with nut-job dominatrixs!" Sara took several deep breaths as Grissom ended the conversation. "Fine, all come help you with your freakin' crime scene." With that she hung up. Sara took several more calming breaths before addressing Anthony, who was in the process of handing the waiter his credit card. "I'm sorry." Sara placed her index fingers at the inner corners of her eyes. "That was work. I have to go."

"Okay."

There was a few minutes of silence while they waited for the waiter to return. Finally Anthony broke it.

"You're boss sounds like a jerk."

"He's…well…"

"I suppose I deserve it." She shrugged. "I broke his heart."

_But he broke mine first._

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

When Grissom stepped into Neil Cohen's apartment, he was, albeit only slightly, glad he had called Sara.

The apartment was huge. As he and Brass moved throughout Neil's living space Grissom took in the large dining room, color-coordinated parlor, massive kitchen and endless bedrooms and bathrooms.

Grissom found his own townhouse to be lonely on the odd day (he preferred the lab) but he couldn't imagine how weird it would be to live alone in this big empty place. The apartment had a pre-furnished air, ether that or Neil had left the whole business to an interior decorator, or maybe he had a gifted girlfriend, Sara had painted his whole house slate blue and a color she found called "Grasshopper Wing".

The trunk the penthouse's owner had been found in lacked the amount of blood the murder victim had lost when someone had slit his throat. Maybe one of these rooms was the primary crime scene.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"And it's so awkward, because I see him everyday! You know…" Sara sighed and accepted the tissue Anthony passed her. "I miss working cases together…just like old times. But…as you know…we can barely have a civil conversation.

Anthony was, surprisingly, a good listener and seemed relatively unfazed as a slightly hysterical Sara Sidle rambled about her ex-boyfriend after he encouraged her to let it all out as he drove her home, and Sara did. Maybe it was because he was a stranger, or she had had too much wine, but the whole messy story unraveled from Sara's lips, cocoon, sabbatical and all.

"I'm sorry." Sara apologized and wiped the moister from her eyes, luckily she hadn't totally broken down and ran her mascara everywhere. "This has been a horrible ending to a date."

"It's okay, it's not your fault you just got out of a complicated relationship."

Sara nodded.

"And you can't forget about him."

Sara nodded again.

"And he's kind of being a jerk about you and this Greg guy."

Nod. Sara wondered how many hysterical women Anthony had had to deal with in the past. She sensed a veteran.

"This Grissom was toxic for you."

"I wasn't all bad." Sara sighed. "I mean, I cam to Vegas for him and we made some good memories...I considered leaving a few times, but Nick and Greg and everyone, we're a family. But things will get better between me and Grissom…right?"

"Of course." Anthony assured her, although he doubted she believed ether of them.

"Well this is me." They had arrived outside Sara's apartment complex. "Again, I'm sorry I'm so…"

"It's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Well good luck in Vegas." Sara told him goodnight as she exited from the SUV.

"Good luck with Grissom." He said. And Anthony drove away. "You'll need it, Sara."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"How about this one?"

"Too disco."

"This one?"

"Country? God no."

"Oh, how about that song by…"

"No, I have the perfect song."

Everyone stood back as Archie popped a CD into the sound system he'd set up.

As the beat filled the Lab's Garage he screamed "SEXYBACK REMIX!" Everyone cheered.

Over the beat Hodges shouted into the microphone. "And now in this corner, we have the evil overlord of the lab himself! The poster boy for dayshift, the resident antagonist and the Assistant Director, give it up for Conrad Ecklie!" Some people cheered.

Ecklie stepped out of the darkness and into the center of the Garage-turned-nightclub, strobe lights reflecting off his bald head. He shucked off his suit jacket and tossed it to Sofia, who clutched it like a groupie, luckily, Ecklie didn't notice.

"And the challenger!" Hodges waved towards the other side of the room where Catherine stepped forward. She gave Ecklie her best 'you want to mess with this?' gangster taunt, nodding her head in acknowledgement of his existence. "CSI Level 3, resident 5'2 man-eater, co-supervisor of the Nightshift, mother and ex-stripper! Let's hear it for Catherine Willows!"

The crowd cheered.

Catherine, to, removed her jacket and tossed it to one of her back-up dancers. She faced Ecklie wearing flexible white pants and a sequined top that made her look like a disco ball. Her back-up dancers all wore matching sequined belts and wore bright clothes that would certainly look out of place in their frequented print and trace labs.

"Are you ready to get served, Willows?" Ecklie sneered.

"Bring it, Connie."

"They call me Eck-tasy."

Archie cranked the music and "Ecktasy" began kicking his feet around and failing his arms in time with the music. Catherine was impressed, he was good. Ecklie began to throw in coordinated hand movements while sliding around the dance floor on his polished dress shoes. If Catherine had to describe it, she would call Ecklie's technique Footloose meets Napoleon Dynamite.

He finished with a flexible high-kick and a spin.

The crowd clapped.

Catherine began swinging her hips and jumped into the dance moves she and her dancers had rehearsed. They were a little slutty, but she didn't care. For her big finish her back-ups stepped out and she danced alone, spinning on one foot, hands raised keeping her balance, one leg pumping in and out until she broke off, lunging forward and landing in a split.

The crowd cheered louder.

"Oh, Yeah!" Hodges yelled, "Murder on the dance floor!"

The crowd erupted. Archie killed the music.

"Where?"

"I'll get the swabs!"

"I've got luminol!"

"That guys got blood on him!"

"Stop spraying me! That's ketchup!"

"No one touch the body!"

"Is it anyone we know?"

"I found fibers!"

"Does anyone have tapelifts!"

"Where's the body?"

"Someone call the coroner!"

"Stop people! It's just an expression!" Hodges calmed the crowed down and Archie kicked the remix back on.

"Is that the best you got?" Ecklie jeered, then turned around to face the crowd. "Who wants me to do the worm?"

As he broke into the mash potato as the crowd chanted: "WORM! WORM! WORM! WORM! WORM! WORM!"

And sure enough, the assistant director got down and proceed to wiggle around the dance floor.

"Ecktasy! Ecktasy! Ecktasy! Ecktasy!" The crowd cheered.

"I hope you don't think this is over!" Catherine yelled. "Let's see you do this!" She turned to one of her back-up dancers. "Give me the secret weapon." The lab tech produced a hat and handed it to Catherine.

The Ex-stripper flipped Greg's fedora onto her hand and did the Eclectic Slide, followed by a quick double-turn then for the grand finale: The Moonwalk.

Ecklie growled as the crowd cheered Catherine, who had reached the other side of the dance floor, she froze her progression, only to grab the fedora and quickly pop it on a off her head twice before replacing it and returning to her Michael Jackson inspired dance.

"Foiled again!" Ecklie muttered, and Sofia handed him his jacket, tears in her eyes.

"We'll get them next time." Sofia assured him as she and Ecklie disappeared into the shadows.

"One days the occupants on this lab will follow me instead of Grissom." He spat the last word out in revulsion.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"Journals, you figure?" Brass said as he and Grissom sorted through a box of belongings under Neil Cohen's bed. Brass began to flip through one of the black notebooks. " She doesn't love me/I keep making excuses to see her/Blood spills from my heart/When I see them together/I hold my tongue/Although my love still does grow/I wish her mine/But she must never know." Brass chuckled. "Guy's a regular tortured soul, eh?"

Grissom sighed, "Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is." He bagged the journal. "Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus."

"These words are razors to my wounded heart." Two can play at that game. Grissom sensed her presence before she even spoke. "Act I, Scene I."

"Um, yeah," Brass sensed fresh tension. There was no way he was going to be left alone with these two, there was a lot of heavy objects in the bedroom and he hated getting caught in crossfire. "I'm going to go talk to the neighbors, see if anyone heard or saw anything of interest." Brass walked past Sara and out the door.

Sara asked, "Where do you want me?"

Oh, Grissom knew exactly where he wanted her. He wanted to show his subordinate exactly what Greg lacked, but, now was not the time.

"Kitchen Knives."

"Consider me there."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

A/N: I read somewhere that Sweeney Todd was based on Titus Andronicus.


	7. Billings

A/N: Really, we updated? Okay, so this chapter wasn't originally planned but with the way Season 8 sounded in August we did up with 3 songs for this thing, two for this chapter and one for the next. TV Guide released some article in September that gave a sum up of what the characters would be up to in the new season, including that Nick is being pruned to be the next Grissom (WTF? We love our Nicky, but that's just messed up), this chapter is a result of that. Oh, and Sara's not going anywhere, screw canon.

A/N 2: Dead Trunk Guy's name changes from "Neil Cohen" to "Neil Johnson" randomly in chapter 6. Sorry about that, I think it's fixed now.

A/N 3: A few song parody Sing-A-Longs are now available on our youtube account, see our profile for the link.

* * *

The first song is an original number titled "TV Guide". The second is a parody of "Leader of the Pack".

* * *

Chapter 7: Billings

* * *

"What in God's holy lands happened here?" Sara's modest lace-up sandals kicked cliché red plastic cups out of her way as she entered the lab's garage. 

The concrete floor was littered with sleeping lab employees and their garbage. Bobby had made a home behind the toolboxes, using a half-eaten bad of potato chips as a pillow. Archie was slumped over a soundboard, one leg supported by an amp. Catherine was sprawled out in the middle of the floor in a sequined top. As Sara approached her co-worker, she slipped in what she hoped was spilt alcohol and almost dropped her bags of evidence.

"What the…?" Nick said as he popped out of nowhere and caught Sara and her evidence.

"I asked the same question." She said, righting herself.

"We didn't have enough designated drivers," the pair spun around to see Hodges in the doorway, buttoning up his navy lab-coat, "so whoever was trashed just kind of slept where they fell."

"Lovely." Sara said examining their surroundings like she did a crime scene, she frowned upon spotting the lop-sided disco ball.

"So…I'm thinking: party?" Nick suggested.

"And I wasn't invited?" Sara said with mock-offence.

"Tragedy. They must be blind to your obvious party-girl persona." Hodges returned

"Well if that's a party girl," Sara indicated the snoring Catherine, "I'm quite fine with being anything but."

"I'm in the credits." Hodges said.

"What?" Nick and Sara asked in unison at the trace Tech's random declaration.

"Yep. That's right, Davy Hodges is moving up in the billings." He sighed, "Life is good."

"Again," Night said. "What?"

"I hope your not feeling under too much pressure with your big promotion looming on the horizon."

"Oh, don't remind me…" Nick groaned.

"What? What promotion?" Sara demanded. Whenever the words "Nick" and "promotion" got to close together Sara's mind a nervous tick formed in her left eye. This was the result of loosing the key position to him in Season 4. It ended up being cancelled due to budget cuts, but it still bugs Sara.

"Didn't you hear?" Hodges asked.

"No."

"It's all here in the latest issue of TV Guide," he explained, pulling the September 30th issue out of his lab coat and handing it to Sara. She began to read.

"Holy Shit!" Warrick said, entering the garage and totally not addicted to any substances whatsoever.

"We know." Nick said.

As Warrick began the project of waking up Catherine, Hodges lost interest in this scene and departed to work on his super cool board game so it can be ready for distribution by Christmas.

"Oh no they didn't!" Sara exclaimed.

"What?" Nick asked.

"Get up Catherine!" Warrick instructed his co-worker.

"No, five more minutes, Mom…" They heard Catherine mumble.

"I can't believe them! Carol Mendelsohn, you've been a thorn in side…weight on my shoulders, I'll show them weight on their shoulders…trading me in for bugs, how ironic…supervisor in waiting…" Sara muttered.

"What are you muttering about, Sara?" Nick asked.

"Listen to this," Sara began to read from the magazine. "'"_The question always is: Grissom is the supervisor, but who is the-supervisor-in-waiting?" Mendelsohn explains. The evidence says it probably won't be Sara.'_" Sara crunched the magazine with angry hands. "What evidence? I demand to see this so-called evidence! What makes them think _I_ can't be supervisor?"

"Well…" Nick said, "You're not in the cast shot," reminding Sara of the picture accompanying the article.

"Shut up." Sara snapped.

"Coffee." A woozy Catherine demanded from her position leaning on Warrick. "Coffee. Now."

"Good morning, Catherine." Sara said as Nick departed briefly to fetch coffee for their friend. "Sleep well?"

"Screw you, brunette-ie."

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the Garage." Sara deadpanned.

"What are you reading?" The blonde asked.

"TV Guide, your in here if you wa-"

Catherine snatched the magazine from Sara, took her coffee from Nick and removed herself to the corner.

Seizing the opportunity, Nick asked Sara about her date with his friend Anthony.

"Horrible. We are never speaking of it again."

"Date?" Warrick asked. "What date?"

"Never mind." Sara said, she changed the subject. "So Warrick, did you get a chance to read the article?"

"Oh yes…" he begin, music started and he began to sing.

**Warrick:**

After picking up  
TV Guide  
I must admit  
I was horrified  
My marriage is  
Going down the drain  
And then some mobsters  
Will cause me pain

**Sara, Nick and Warrick:**

It's evident  
That were all fuc-  
We just meant  
That we're all fuc-  
It makes perfect sense  
That we're all fuc-  
There's evidence  
That we're all fucked up.

Catherine got up from her perch in the corner. She gulped down her coffee, threw the empty cup on the floor and joined the others in song.

**Catherine:**

Making lines  
With Library cards  
To the big guy  
I send my regards  
To a new project  
I must commit  
Time for change  
Because my life is shit

**All:**

It's evident  
That were all fuc-  
We just meant  
That we're all fuc-  
It makes perfect sense  
That we're all fuc-  
There's evidence  
That we're all fucked up.

**Nick:**

Reading Magazines  
In the Grocery Store  
Saw an article  
That I couldn't ignore  
I thought in the box  
I was pretty stressed  
Supervisor in waiting,  
Who would have guessed?

**All:**

It's evident  
That were all fuc-  
We just meant  
That we're all fuc-  
It makes perfect sense  
That we're all fuc-  
There's evidence  
That we're all fucked up.

Unknown to the CSIs, Hodges appears, sees them singing and then runs back out again.

**Sara:**

I'm under a car  
Suspended in time  
Let me off the hook  
This is a crime  
And about Grissom?  
He gets a beehive  
And he better hope  
That I'm still alive

**All:**

It's evident  
That were all fuc-  
We just meant  
That we're all fuc-  
It makes perfect sense  
That we're all fuc-  
There's evidence  
That we're all fucked up.

Grissom entered with a siren. He proceeded to press a button on the top which filled the garage with an ear-splitting BEEP! The four CSIs clutched their ears and stopped singing, the sleeping lab rats on the floor and equipment were shocked out of their slumber with cries of protest. Grissom glared at them all.

"EVERYONE. WORK. NOW!"

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

After assigning Catherine the job of cleaning the people out of the garage, Grissom found himself across a desk from the honorable Judge Turpin.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, your Honor." Brass addressed the judge from his seat beside Grissom after they had made introductions. "We just have a few questions for you, part of an on-going investigation."

"Ask away."

"We were wondering the nature of the calls made to you on the night of the fourteenth at 10:24 pm and 11:06 pm from a one Neil Cohen." Grissom asked, studying the Judge's dull gray eyes.

"May I inquire as to why?"

"You were the last call he made before he was killed." Grissom said, placing a picture of Neil's deceased head and neck, slit throat displayed, on the Judge's desk for him to see.

"That's terrible." The Judge showed no signs of shock. "When he didn't answer I assumed he was busy, I never thought…"

Brass asked, "the first call lasted just over three minutes, what did you talk about?"

"Business."

"Did Mr. Cohen worked for you?"

"Yes. I employ two assistants, he was one."

"Two?" Grissom asked in a tone which clearly expressed that two personal assistants were more than enough for the Judge.

"Yes. I have a lot of errands to run and I'm a very busy man."

"What's the name of your other assistant?" Brass asked, taking out his standard issue notebook and a plain black pen.

"Beadle Bamford."

"Now, how can we get into contact with Mr. Bamford?" Brass asked the Judge as he jotted down the name.

"I'm afraid he's taken Vacation time to see his mother. Neil was covering for him."

"Did Mr. Cohen and Mr. Bamford get along? Was there any tension between them." Grissom asked.

"No. They had a perfectly professional relationship."

"Can you think of anyone who held a grudge against Neil?" Brass asked. "Any one who would want to hurt him?"

The corner of the Judge's mouth curled up. "We all have enemies, but I can think of none of Neil's."

"Had he been acting strangely? Late for work, mysterious phone calls?" Brass asked.

"No and no. This was all very sudden."

"And where were you that night, your honor?" Grissom asked, Brass shot him a look out of the corner of his eye.

"Here. And dozens of respectable city employees will testify to that." The Judge's tone clearly informed Brass and Grissom that the meeting was over. "As soon as Bamford returns I'll send him in to answer any further questions you may have. Until a such time arises, we are done here."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"So when you heard that I was moving here a hundred percent single your first thought was to set me up with your boss's ex-girlfriend?" Anthony told Nick over his phone as he waited in line at _Shelly's Seafood _drive-through. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in front of him, the other holding the phone to his ear.

"Okay, in hindsight, not my best idea. But hey, Sara's a cool girl!" Came his friend's voice. Nick had called to ask how his date with Sara had gone and Anthony had told him outright that it had been a bad idea. Quite frankly, the night had been a disaster.

"Maybe, but…I don't know…she seemed really out of it." He found himself explaining. "She hardly said anything. So I just kept rambling and rambling saying anything that I could think of…"

"Don't tell me you told her the swordfish story…"

"I panicked!"

"Man…I set you up with a perfectly nice woman and you tell the swordfish story?"

"I can get on fine by myself."

"Are you?"

"As a matter a fact…."

"Oh really, you're telling me, like an actual living, breathing woman?"

"Yes."

"Well, tell me about her!"

"Well she's an artist…a painter." Johanna spent her days painting flowers mostly, Anthony was encouraging her to think outside the box. Her father did not like this.

"Oh, that's nice, see? There's hope for you!"

"Yeah…I only met her last week but we're moving pretty fast." Anthony pulled up a space as the line moved. "It's almost perfect without her father giving me the skink-eye, he's drivin' us both up the wall. But when were away from him, it's like she just lights up, y'know?"

"It sounds like you guys really hit it off. If things are going so well, why'd you agree to go out with Sara?"

"Well…you know this whole Vegas thing's not really working out for me. I'm thinking about moving back home, I don't want to get serious with her and then just up and leave. I'd guess I was just helping you out, you sounded pretty desperate."

"Take her with you."

"Take who where?"

"Take your new girl with you, if you're both miserable here, then…"

"I don't know if Johanna would go for that."

"Just think about it. Get a place by the ocean and see if you can make each other happy."

"You're getting sentimental on me, Nicky."

"Just think about it."

"I will." Anthony said pulling up beside the take-out window. "My order's up. Gotta go."

"Just remember to thank me at your wedding." Nick chuckled before hanging up.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Later that shift, Mandy was running the mountain of prints recovered by Grissom and Sara at Neil Johnson's apartment in an attempt to advance the plot when Wendy entered.

"Have you heard?" She asked.

"Heard what?" Mandy responded.

"About Nick being the next Nightshift Supervisor, Grissom's successor."

"It's true?"

"Oh, yes."

"I thought that was just a rumor."

"No way, everyone's talking about it." Wendy spotted Catherine through the glass wall of the print lab and waved her over. As she entered, music began to play.

"Got results for me?"

"Not exactly." Mandy drawled.

"We were just talking about Nick's promotion." Wendy informed Catherine.

"Oh, don't get me started on that!" The blonde fumed.

Mandy frowned, but she was not surprised. "I take it your not thrilled by the news."

"Ya think?"

"Why not?" Wendy asked.

**Catherine:**

I am next in the billings!  
If Grissom leaves his job is mine,  
I'm the next in line!

**Mandy and Wendy:**

You're in disbelief?

**Catherine:**

How can Nick become…

**All:**

Leader of the Lab!

**Catherine:**

Here at the lab, I am the second in command

**Mandy and Wendy:**

Command!

**Catherine:**

I'm Gil Grissom's right and left hand man

**Mandy and Wendy:**

What do you mean you're his right and left hand man?

**Catherine:**

I've always had his back!  
Now Nick's head of the pack?  
No way he's gonna be…

**All:**

Leader of the Lab!

**Catherine:**

Not that Nick's not a good CSI  
Not that he's not a real stand up guy

**Mandy and Wendy:**

Then why can't he take over?

**Catherine:**

Because it is my turn,  
When will everyone learn?  
When Grissom's gone I'll be…

**All:**

Leader of the Lab!

**Catherine:** _(spoken)_

This rumor can't be true, I outrank Nick  
I will be the one to front this show  
I will be the one in the corner office  
Once it's Grissom's time to go  
No more Emerson, Freud or Romeo!

**Mandy and Wendy:**

Wherefore art though my subordinate?

**Catherine:**

He's a good leader and so clever  
We'll miss him, but he won't be here forever  
Not saying I can replace  
Or that I just can't loose face  
But Nick can't be the…

**All: **

**  
**Leader of the Lab!

"Well," Mandy sighed. "If you're so worked up about this…maybe you and Nick should have a good talk."

Catherine's smile was on the definite evil side. "I think I will do just that." She departed with a swish of her strawberry blonde hair.

Wendy gave Mandy a curious look. "You know, if Nick survives that encounter, he's coming after you."

* * *

TBC

* * *

Oh, watch out, Nicky! Sorry we haven't been updating, we both been really busy and got a bit of writer's block. 


End file.
